Sargent,  Epes. 

New  American  Fourth  Header. 


DUKE 
UNIVERSITY 


LIBRARY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/newamericanfirst41  sarg 


PREFACE. 


In  the  advertisement  of  a  series  of  Headers  prepared  by  one  of 
the  present  editors  seventeen  years  ago,  he  remarked:  "  Although 
the  editor  has  been  more  solicitous  to  offer  what  is  suitable  than 
what  is  novel,  it  will  be  found  that  more  than  two-thirds  of  this 
collection  is  composed  of  pieces  that  have  a  place  in  no  other 
Readers." 

Unfortunately,  he  cannot  say  this  of  that  former  collection  now  ; 
for,  in  some  series  of  Readers  widely  circulated  in  the  United 
States,  the  compilers  have  availed  themselves  of  his  sedulous  labors 
to  an  extent  of  which  he  might  justly  complain,  since  they  have 
appropriated  not  only  his  new  and  carefully -adapted  selections, 
but  a  number  of  pieces  wholly  original  and  protected,  by  copyright, 
though  published  either  without  his  name  or  under  the  assumed 
names  of  Osborne,  Vinet,  etc.  Two  of  these  pieces  we  have  here 
taken  the  liberty  to  reclaim,  with  such  alterations  as  the  author 
has  chosen  to  make. 

Believing  that  quality  and  adaptedness  are  more  to  be  considered 
in  a  reading-book  than  a  superfluity  of  matter,  it  has  been  our 
purpose  to  make  a  cheap,  compact  and  skillfully-graduated 
series,  containing  not  one  piece  that  a  teacher  of  sound  literary 
taste  would  skip  on  account  of  demerits  in  style  or  sense.  The 
quantity  of  bad  verse  in  some  popular  reading-books  is  too  fre- 
quently a  trial  to  both  teacher  and  pupil. 

We  have  been  careful,  too,  to  give,  in  the  present  volume,  such 
a  variety  that  the  declamatory  and  the  colloquial,  the  emo- 
tional and  the  unimpassioned  forms  of  speech  should  all  be  repre- 
sented in  fair  proportions. 

Exercises  and  hints  of  a  purely  practical  nature  will  be  found 
in  the  Introduction.    Every  teacher  should  master  them. 

To  the  original  pictorial  illustrations  of  this  series,  so  creditable 
to  American  art,  we  call  attention  with  especial  satisfaction. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

E.  H.  BUTLER  &  CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


WE8TC0TT  <fc  fHOHSOS 
Stereotypers  PMlada 


Sherman  &  C  o.. 

Printers,  Philada, 


x7Cl 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 



INTRODUCTION. 


5 
v.  f 


PAGE 

Elementary  Sounds   5 

Phonic  Analysis   6 

Exercises  in  Vowel  Sounds   8 

Exercises  in  Consonant  Sounds...  11 

Errors  of  Pronunciation   13 

Accent   14 

Emphasis   14 

Pause   14 

Inflection   15 

Monotone..'.   16 


Parenthesis   16 

Vocal  Training   16 

Exercises  of  the  Breath   16 

Gymnastic  Aids   17 

Position  of  the  Body.   17 

Management  of  the  Voice   17 

Expressive  Delivery   17 

Capabilities  of  the  Voice   18 

Force   18 

Compass   18 


LESSONS  IN 


1.  The  Tree  that  was  Little   19 

2.  The  Broken  Pane   21 

4.  Female  Heroism   25 

5.  Breathe  Pure  Air   30 

6.  Everything  is  of  Use   32 

8.  What  a  Little  Help  may  do..  35 

9.  The  Boy  who  wanted  a  Cricket  37 

13.  Loss  of  the  Royal  George   46 

14.  The  Outside  Passenger   49 

15.  Importance  of  Thought   52 

17.  The  House  Sparrow   57 

20.  Object  Teaching.  By  Charles 

Dickens   62 

21.  The  Breach  of  Trust   66 

23.  Scene  in  a  Menagerie   72 

25.  Brevities.    Exercises  in  Col- 

loquial Delivery   77 

26.  The  Prize  for  Heroism....   80 

27.  Arnold  the  Teacher   84 

29.  That's  How   90 

30.  The  Compass.  ByJas.Parton  92 
32.  Speech  of  Patrick  Henry   97 


PROSE. 

33.  The  Earth  and  the  Stars   100 

34.  The  Two  Soliloquies   103 

36.  Riches  without  Wings   107 

38.  Early  Rising   Ill 

39.  The  Earth's  Journey  round 

the  Sun.  By  Prof.  Olmstead  113 

41.  How  to  Read  Well   119 

42.  The  Cotton  Plant   123 

45.  Cicero  against  Catiline   132 

46.  Character    of  Washington. 

By  Lord  Brougham  (pro- 
nounced Broom)   134 

47.  What   is    Gravitation?  By 

Prof.  Olmstead   136 

"    Addison.    By  Thackeray   139 

48.  Fun  among  Animals   140 

49.  Shiel's  Reply  to  Lord  Lynd- 

hurst   144 

51.  The  Flax  Plant  and  Linen...  149 

52.  The  Silk  Manufacture   151 

54.  Influence  of  Example   155 

55.  The  King  and  the  Flatterer..  158 

3 


4 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


57.  The  Silent  Academy   162 

59.  Nature  and  Art.    By  Cardi- 

nal Wiseman   168 

60.  The  Little  Midshipman   171 

61.  Napier  and  the  Juggler   174 

62.  Rules  for  Health   177 

63.  Value  of  Good  Temper   180 

85.  The  Astronomer   186 

3.  The  Street  of  By-and-By   23 

4.  Lines  on  Grace  Darling.  By 

Wordsworth   29 

7.  The  Boasting  Traveler   34 

10.  The  Excellent  Man.  By  Heine  40 
"    Be  Grateful.  By  Wordsworth  40 

12.  The  Giant  and  the  Dwarf. 

By  W.  A.  Butler   44 

"    Virtue  and  Error.    By  T.  H. 

Bayly   45 

13.  Loss  of  the  Royal  George. 

By  Cowper   48 

16.  The  Ant  and  the  Glow-Worm  55 

18.  Hymn  of  the  Mountaineers. 

By  Mrs.  Hemans   60 

19.  The  Brave.    By  J.  E.  Car- 

penter  61 

22.  No   71 

23.  From   "The  Hymn  to  the 

Flowers."  By  H.  Smith...  74 
28.  "Not  to  Myself  Alone."  By 

S.  W.  Partridge   88 

31.  The  Captive's  Dream.  By 

Mrs.  Hemans   96 

35.  The  Planting  of  the  Tree   106 

37.  The  Retort   110 

39.  Thou  art,  0  God.    By  Moore  116 

43.  Pleasant  Weather   127 

44.  Now  is  the  Time   131 

11.  The  Return  of  Columbus   41 

14.  Over  the  Fence   51 

24.  The  Tardy  Boy   75 


PAGJ 

67.  Niagara  and  the  Great  Lakes  190 


68.  Noble  Revenge  .....   193 

69.  What  a  Common  Man  may 

Say   196 

71.  Captain  John  Smith   200 

72.  Iron   204 


74.  Last  Days  of  Madame  Roland  209 

75.  The  Sailor  and  the  Albatross  214 


VEESE. 

47.  The  Spacious  Firmament,  etc. 

By  Addison   138 

50.  Up,  faint  heart,  up  !   147 

"    The  Rainbow.     By  Words- 
worth   148 

53.  The  Two   Rain-drops.  By 

Mrs.  Mulock  Craik   154 

54.  0  bright  presence  of  to-day. 

By  M.  F.  Tupper   157 

"  Coronach.  By  Sir  W.  Scott..  157 
56.  The  Three  Wishes   160 

58.  Exercises  in  Emotional  De- 

livery, from  Aaron  Hill, 
Byron,  Shakespeare,  Dry- 
den,  Scott   165 

59.  Knowledge,  etc.   By  Cowper  170 

60.  Casabianca.  ByMrs.Hemang  173 

61.  The  Example  of  Birds   176 

64.  Nothing  to  Wear.    By  W.  A. 

Butler   184 


"  Fame.  By  Joanna  Baillie...  185 
66.  Come,  Sunshine,  come  !  From 

the  French  of  C.  Vincent...  189 

70.  Uncrowned  Kings.  By  Berke- 

ley Aiken     198 

71.  The  Place  to  Die   203 

73.  Little  Children.     By  Mary 

Howitt   208 

74.  Yussouf.    By  J.  R.  Lowell...  213 


40.  Philosopher  and  Boatman....  117 
44.  The  Quarrel  of  the  Authors. 

(Translated  from  Moliere)  128 


LESSONS  IN 


DIALOGUES. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Elementary  Sounds. — An  Elementary  Sound  is  one 
which  cannot  be  divided  into  two  or  more  unlike  sounds.  For 
instance,  the  a  in  far  is  elementary,  but  the  i  in  ride  is  com- 
pounded of  a  in  far  and  e  in  me,  closely  joined  in  the  utter- 
ance, thus :  a-e  —  i  long. 

The  Elementary  Sounds  of  the  English  language  do  not 
properly  exceed  thirty-four.  Owing  to  the  defects  of  our 
alphabet,  to  represent  all  these  sounds  we  have  only  twenty- 
six  letters,  and  some  of  these  are  of  no  real  service :  c,  for 
example,  could  be  expressed  by  s  or  k  (as  in  city,  can)  ;  q 
by  kw,  and  x  by  ks  or  gz. 

In  the  absence  of  single  letters  as  signs  for  certain  Ele- 
mentary Sounds,  we  have  to  use  two  letters ;  as  for  ng  in 
thing ;  sh  in  shine;  th  in  thin  and  thine.  Bear  in  mind  that 
different  letters  are  often  used  to  express  the  same  sound,  as 
in  care  and  there,  and  sometimes  two,  three  or  four  letters 
are  used  to  express  the  sound  of  one.  Thus,  the  word  awe 
simply  expresses  the  sound  of  a  in  fall;  ea  in  great,  the  sound 
of  a  in  fate ;  eau  in  beauty,  the  sound  of  u  in  mute;  augh 
in  slaughter,  the  sound  of  a  in  fall. 

Two  letters  used  together  to  denote  one  sound  are  called  a 
digraph  ;  thus,  in  the  word  ring,  n  and  g  form  a  digraph. 

"When  two  vowels  unite  to  form  a  syllable,  they  are  called 
a  diphthong,  as  in  aid,  mean,  hoist.  "When  three  vowels  so 
unite,  they  are  called  a  triphthong,  as  in  beauty,  view. 

The  Elementary  Sounds  are  a  in  far,  a  in  fat,  a  in  fate, 
a  in  full ;  e  in  me,  e  in  met ;  i  in  fit;  o  in  note,  o  in  not;  u 
in  bull;  OO  in  cool ;  u  in  but;  w  in  wet;  y  in  yet;  h  in  hot; 
ng  in  Icing;  m  in  man;  n  in  not;  1  in  let ;  r  in  run;  p  in 
pan  and  b  in  bag ;  f  in  fan  and  v  in  van  ;  th  in  thin  and  th 
in  thine;  t  in  tin  and  d  in  din;  k  in  kind  and  g  in  gun;  &' 
in  sin  and  z  in  zeal;  sh  in  shine  and  z  in  azure. 

25  *  * 


6 


INTRODUCTION. 


Besides  these  there  are  four  Compound  Vowel  Sounds 
sometimes  classed  with  the  Elementary ;  namely,  long  i  in 
pine,  long  u  in  cube,  oil  in  house,  oi  in  voice;  and  two  Com- 
pound Consonant  Sounds,  namely,  ch  in  chest,  j  in  jest. 

Vowels  and  Consonants. — A  Consonant  is  an  ele- 
ment of  speech  formed  by  means  of  a  complete  or  partial 
closing  of  the  vocal  tube ;  and  being  itself  an  obscure  sound, 
it  generally  requires  the  help  of  a  vowel  for  its  intelligible 
utterance.  A  Vowel  can  be  uttered  without  a  closing  of  the 
vocal  tube,  and  without  the  aid  of  any  other  sound.  The 
vowels  are  a,  e,  i,  O,  U,  and  sometimes  w  and  y. 

One  Consonant  Sound  is  said  to  be  cognate  to  another  when 
it  is  related  or  allied  to  it ;  as  p  to  b,  f  to  v,  th  in  thin  to 
th  in  thine ;  t  to  d,  k  to  g  hard  (as  in  gun'),  s  to  z,  sh  in 
shine  to  z  in  azure.  Of  these,  p,  f,  th  in  thin,  t,  k,  S  and 
sh  are  said  to  be  Aspirate  ;  the  others,  Vocal. 

The  a  in  ask  and  the  a  in  care  are  not  classed  among  the 
Elementary  Sounds,  as  they  are  regarded  generally  as  mere 
modifications  of  the  sounds  of  a  in  at  and  a  in  fate.  Ex- 
amples in  which  they  occur  will  be  found  in  the  Exercises  on 
the  Vowel  Sounds. 

Phonic  Analysis. — The  alphabetic  names  of  letters 
being  no  true  guides  to  their  sounds  when  formed  into  words, 
it  is  desirable  to  give  the  actual  sounds  independently,  and 
this  process  is  called  Phonic  Analysis,  the  word  phonic  being 
derived  from  the  Greek  "phone,  a  sound. 

In  this  exercise  it  is  obvious  that  no  heed  is  to  be  taken  of 
silent  letters.  Thus,  the  word  water  has  the  same  number 
of  sounds  as  daughter. 

Print  some  simple  word  on  the  blackboard  and  explain  its 
Elementary  Sounds.  Take,  for  example,  the  word  map,  in 
which  there  are  as  many  sounds  as  there  are  letters :  m,  short 
a,  and  p : 

Map   m-m-m   a-a-a  p-p-p  map. 

After  the  separate  sounds  of  this  word  are  perfectly  under- 
stood, select  one  with  a  new  element  in  it,  and  exercise  pupils 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 


on  that ;  first  calling  on  them  to  say  whether  it  has  as  many 
sounds  as  it  has  letters. 

Man  m-m-m   a-a-a  n-n-n  man. 

Proceed  now  to  illustrate  the  fact  that,  owing  to  the  poverty 
of  our  alphabet  and  the  capricious  irregularities  in  our  modes 
of  forming  words  by  letters,  the  same  letter,  a,  is  used  for  a 
variety  of  sounds.  This  may  be  shown  in  make,  car,  fall,  etc. 
Show  that  one  device  for  helping  us  out  has  been  to  attach  a 
silent  vowel-letter  (as  in  make  =  m-a-k)  to  indicate  the  long 
sound  of  a  in  a  large  class  of  words. 

Make  m-m-m  a-a-a  k-k-k  make. 

In  the  word  car  we  have  the  sounds  of  k,  a  in  father  and 
smooth  or  untrilled  r. 

Car   k-k-k   a-a-a  r-r-r  car. 

Here  it  may  be  illustrated  that  the  presence  of  r  should 
give  a  slight,  but  not  a  too  formal,  difference  to  our  enuncia- 
tion of  such  words  as  alms  and  arms,  balm  and  farm. 

In  the  word  thaw  there  are  only  two  Elementary  Sounds, 
namely,  aspirate  th  and  the  sound  of  a  in  fall.  Call  upon 
pupils  to  designate  the  Elementary  Sounds  in  the  following 
words  :  trough  (t  r  o  f  ),  enough,  physic,  child,  shine,  thin,  thine, 
sleigh,  calf,  autumn,  awe,  aught,  height,  freight,  prove,  laugh 
sphere,  etc. 

In  Phonic  Spelling  the  division  of  syllables  may  be  marked 
by  pauses  instead  of  repetitions.  If  the  teacher  finds  it  diffi- 
cult to  discover  and  produce  the  true  sounds  of  a  word,  let 
him  refer  to  the  dictionary,  and  then  pronounce  the  sounds 
deliberately  and  distinctly,  so  that  they  may  separately  strike 
the  ear  ;  as,  for  example,  in  the  word  poison  =p-oi-s-n. 

In  Syllabic  Analysis  first  pronounce  the  whole  word,  then 
repeat  it  with  the  exception  of  the  first  syllable,  then  with 
the  exception  of  the  second,  etc.,  until  the  last  syllable ;  as, 
al-pha-bet-ic,  pha-bet-ic,  bet-ic,  ic.  To  analyze  by  sound,  pro- 
nounce the  whole  word,  and  repeat  it  with  the  exception  of 


8 


INTRODUCTION. 


the  first  sound,  then  with  the  exception  of  the  second,  and  so 
on  till  only  one  sound  remains. 

Exercises  in  Vowel  Sounds. 

a,  as  in  far. — Father,  arm,  are,  aunt,  halm,  bath,  calf,  calm 
daunt,  draught  (draft),  guard,  haunt,  hearth,  jaundice,  lath,  laugh, 
launch,  laundry,  path,  psalm,  qualm,  salve,  saunter,  sergeant,  taunt. 

a,  short,  as  in  hat. — 4pt>  acrid,  catch,  clamber,  gas,  gather, 
matin,  national,  panic,  plaid,  raillery,  rather,  rational,  tapestry, 
tarry,  tassel. 

a,  long,  as  in  hate. — Ale,  angel,  aye,  bait,  blazon,  cambric,  cam- 
paign, chaste,  chasten,  convey,  deign,  estrange,  feign,  gauge,  great, 
heinous,  inveigh,  matron,  neighbor,  obey,  placable,  sleigh,  steak, 
straight,  stranger,  weigh. 

a,  broad,  as  in  fall ;  the  equivalent  of  o  in  nor. — .411,  alter,  auc- 
tion, aught,  balk,  balsam,  broad,  brought,  calk,  caught,  falcon,  fal- 
chion, fawn,  forlorn,  halt,  orb,  palsy,  paltry,  sward,  saucy,  swart, 
thought,  walnut,  wampum. 

a,  as  in  ask  (called  by  some  intermediate  a;  pronounced  by 
some  like  a  in  dare;  by  some  like  a  in  far  ;  by  some  like  a  in  hat). 
— Basket,  branch,  clasp,  class,  dance,  flask,  grass,  mask,  mastiff,  past, 
plaster,  vast. 

e,  long,  as  in  me. — Brief,  caprice,  Ccesar,  cede,  dear,  deceit,  de- 
mon, e'en,  either  (also  pronounced  Ither),  fatigue,  field,  fiend, 
grieve,  inveigle,  keg,  machine,  people,  quay  (ke),  ravine,  receipt, 
seize,  siege,  tea. 

e,  short,  as  in  met. — Be<i,  again,  against,  any,  bestial,  bread, 
breakfast,  cellar,  cleanse,  deaf,  engine,  erring,  friend,  get,  guess, 
heifer,  kettle,  leant,  leopard,  many,  peasant,  preface,  ready,  said, 
says,  sterile,  tepid,  very,  yet,  zealot. 

e,  as  in  her. — Herd,  fern,  fervid,  bird,  pearl,  learn,  earl,  earth, 
heard,  mercy,  mirth,  girl,  person,  term,  stern,  worm,  word,  worth, 
worse,  nurse,  pert,  rehearse,  first,  nurst,  worst,  burst,  furl,  curl, 
world.  (Avoid  the  tendency  to  slight  the  sound  of  untrilled  r  in 
this  class  of  words.) 

i,  short,  as  in  hit. — Bid,  been,  biscuit,  breeches,  build,  busy,  con- 
duit, England,  feminine,  forfeit,  give,  juvenile,  livelong,  lyric,  mir- 
ror, guilt,  sieve,  spirit,  synod,  tribune,  typify,  vineyard,  witty,  wo- 
men, withe  (the  th  aspirate,  as  in  hath). 

i,  long,  as  in  find. — Apply,  ally,  bind,  blight,  bug,  child,  eye,  fly 
guide,  guile,  height  or  hight,  indict,  isle,  oblige,  rye,  sigh,  sky, 
satiety,  sinecure,  tiny. 


INTRODUCTION. 


9 


©,  long,  as  in  note. — Boat,  beau,  bolster,  bone,  both,  bowl,  bowsprit, 
brooch,  cocoa,  dotard,  dough,  droll,  engross,  fellow,  foe,  knoll,  loth, 
most,  only,  oral,  patrol7,  scroll,  sew,  strew,  sloth,  soap,  stone,  soul, 
toad,  troll,  trow,  whole,  woe. 

o,  short,  as  in  got. — Blot,  dross,  florid,  forehead,  gloss,  grovel, 
hovel,  jocund,  knowledge,  moth,  product,  quality,  sorry,  swamp, 
squadron,  trode,  wan,  was,  watch. 

u,  as  in  full ;  the  equivalent  of  short  oo,  as  in  book. — Bush, 
butcher,  could,  cuckoo,  cushion,  hook,  look,  pull,  pwlley,  pwlpit, 
pwsh,  put,  should,  wolf,  woolen  or  woollen,  woman,  wood,  would. 

00,  long,  as  in  cool. — Bloom,  balloon,  bruise,  brutal,  canoe,  croup, 
czmse,  do,  fruit,  group,  lose,  moon,  move,  prove,  pn/dent,  prune, 
rheum,  rule,  shoe,  surtout,  true,  t?i>o,  uncouth,  who. 

u,  short,  as  in  but. — Cut,  above,  among,  blood,  brother,  color, 
comely,  cousin,  does,  done,  dost,  doth,  double,  dove,  enough,  flood, 
flourish,  front,  hwrry,  joust,  money,  none,  nothing,  some,  tongue, 
yowng. 

li,  long,  as  in  mute  (someiimes  called  diphthongal  u,  and  having 
a  sound  of  initial  y). — Cube,  dew,  due,  feud,  knew,  neutral,  new,  re- 
duce, stew,  stadent,  stupid,  tube,  Tuesday,  tumid,  tutor,  view. 

on,  as  in  house. — Brow,  cloud,  down,  dowry,  cow,  croi^d,  douot, 
drought,  noun,  now,  out,  powder,  pronounce,  town,  trout,  vow. 

01,  as  in  voice. — Avoid,  boil,  broil,  choice,  coin,  coy,  foible,  hoist, 
join,  joist,  loin,  loiter,  oil,  ouster,  point,  poise,  rejoice,  soil,  spoil, 
toil,  voyage. 

Long  Vowels  Modified  by  r. — When  long  a  occurs 
before  r  in  the  same  syllable,  as  in  bare,  care,  etc.,  the  sound 
is  so  modified  as  to  conform  to  that  of  the  first  e  in  there, 
where,  etc.    Long  o  is  also  modified  by  r,  as  in  bore,  more. 

a,  as  in  care. — Bare,  bear,  chary,  daring,  heir,  impair,  pare,  pa- 
rent, rare,  share,  snare,  stair,  tear,  wear. 

o,  as  in  more. — Adore,  afford,  bore,  core,  door,  floor,  four,  lore, 
mourn,  pork,  portal. 

Unaccented  Vowel  Sounds. — A  feeble  enunciation 
of  the  vowel  sounds  in  unaccented  syllables  is  a  common 
fault,  but  a  precision  leading  to  stiffness  in  utterance  should 
be  avoided.  In  words  ending  in  unaccented  -ary,  -ery,  -org, 
the  vowel  before  r  is  usually  short,  and  should  be  sounded 
accordingly,  though  without  stress.    The  same  may  be  said 


10 


INTRODUCTION. 


of  endings  in  -able,  as,  valuable.  In  a  large  class  of  words> 
long  a  in  unaccented  syllables  (as  in  village,  desperate,  moun- 
tain) should  lose  so  much  stress  as  to  approach  the  sound 
of  short  i.  But  in  verbs  (as  regulate)  and  in  certain  nouns 
(as  candidate)  long  a,  though  unaccented,  has  its  regular 
sound.  The  following  sentence  shows  the  difference  in  the 
sound  of  long  a  unaccented  in  a  verb  and  in  an  adjective: 
"  Intimate  the  fact  to  your  intimate  friend." 

In  unaccented  syllables  the  short  sounds  of  a  and  e  (as  in 
dormant,  ardent)  are  relatively  fainter  than  in  accented  syl- 
lables, but  they  should  not  degenerate  into  the  sounds  of  u 
or  I. 

Short  a  unaccented  when  initial  (as  in  alive)  or  coming 
after  a  consonant  (as  in  caress)  should  have  the  sound  it  has 
in  its  easy  utterance  in  "  Once  a  week."  Unaccented  a  final 
or  before  r,  as  in  comma,  cedar,  etc.,  also  has  this  sound. 

The  unaccented  vowel  in  evil,  drivel,  etc.  (pronounced  ev'l, 
driv'l),  is  unsounded,  but  in  many  other  words  it  is  sounded  ; 
as,  anvil,  chapel,  final,  medal,  model,  parcel,  pencil,  revel. 

Short  e  or  i  unaccented  before  n  should  be  sounded  in  the 
following  words :  chicken,  children,  kitchen,  linen,  sloven, 
sudden,  Latin,  matm,  satm,  etc.,  but  in  many  other  words  it 
should  be  silent ;  as,  dozen,  driven,  even,  golden,  heaven,  kit- 
ten, often,  open,  seven,  soften,  spoken,  basin,  cousin,  raisin,  etc. 

Short  o  unaccented  is  heard  without  stress  in  the  following 
words  :  common,  demon,  heron,  sermon,  summon,  tenon  ;  but 
in  the  following  the  o  should  be  unsounded  :  bacon,  bea- 
con, deacon,  pardon,  person,  poison,  reason,  treason,  weapon, 
etc. 

The  sound  of  long  o  unaccented,  as  in  fellow,  widow,  should 
uot  be  corrupted  into  the  sound  of  er. 

Long,  diphthongal  u  (as  in  mnte)  is  generally  heard  pure 
when  it  ends  or  forms  a  syllable  (unless  preceded  by  the 
sound  of  r)  either  immediately  before  or  after  the  accent ;  as 
mutation,  tmite,  educate,  etc.  But  in  certain  unaccented  ter- 
minations in  -ure  (as  in  creatwre,  nature,  etc.)  long  u,  while 
preserving  its  y  element,  loses  a  little  of  its  sound  of  long  oo, 


INTRODUCTION. 


11 


so  that  these  words  are  pronounced  nearly  as  if  creat'yur, 
nai'yur. 

Exercises  in  Consonant  Sounds. 

Let  the  reader  first  pronounce  the  representative  souud  by  itself,  giv 
ing,  if  practicable,  not  merely  its  alphabetic  name,  but  its  true  phonic 
quality,  and  then  apply  it  to  the  words  offered  as  examples. 

b,  vocal,  as  in  barb. — Babble,  booby,  bulb,  cab,  crib,  ebb,  imbibe, 
lobby,  mob,  ra6id,  rib,  stab,  web. 

oil,  aspirate,  as  in  church. —  CAafe,  chamber,  cAeap,  ditch,  hatch, 
marcAing,  milcA,  such,  toucA,  which. 

d,  vocal,  as  in  did. — Degrade,  eddy,  fade,  giddy,  hod,  lad,  mode, 
nod,  padded,  wedded. 

f,  aspirate,  as  in  fife. — Far,  feoff,  fixe,  few,  lau^rA,  emphasis,  off, 
often,  nymph,  phantom,  pheasant,  prophet,  physic,  rough,  sapphire, 
soften,  sough,  sphere,  tough. 

g,  vocal,  as  in  gag. — Connate,  ghost,  egg,  fog,  Gertrude,  c/ibber, 
giggle,  gimp,  guile,  log,  physiognomy,  plague,  rag,  vague. 

ll,  as  in  Aail. — iftgh,  Aymn,  exAaust,  exhibit,  exAort,  inAale, 
perAaps,  reAearse,  whom,  withAold. 

j,  vocal,  as  in  jar. — Age,  gelatin,  gem,  gerund,  gibbet,  gibe,  tab- 
let, £npsy,  gist,  gin,  huge,  jar,  jelly,  jib,  lodge,  page,  soMer,  wa^er. 

k,  aspirate,  as  in  kirk. — AcAe,  architect,  ark,  cape,  conch,  coquette, 
disticA,  ecAo,  ep/ocA,  flaccid,  kin,  loch,  talk,  walk. 

1,  as  in  lily. — Ball,  cellar,  evil,  flannel,  illy,  'kiln,  lake,  loll,  lovely, 
lull,  mellow,  silly,  title,  travel,  weasel,  woolly. 

m,  as  in  maim. — Climb,  column,  condemn,  dame,  drachm,  elm, 
hymn,  lamb,  limn,  hWner,  mime,  murmur. 

n,  as  in  nun. — Basin,  condign,  cousin,  even,  gnat,  gnaw,  bin, 
kneel,  known,  Latin,  malign,  noun,  sloven,  tannin. 

ng,  as  in  ri;?<7. — Acting,  anchor,  anger,  bank,  congress,  conquest, 
finger,  gang,  lynx,  nothing,  rank,  singer,  sink,  unthi?*king,  younger. 

p,  aspirate,  as  inpipe. — Apt,  pap,  pomp,  populous,  puppet,  pupil, 
sharp,  slipper,  steep,  vamp. 

r,  rough  or  trilled  (beginning  a  word  or  syllable  with  or  without 
a  consonant  element). — Around,  contrary,  library,  pray,  rare,  rAu- 
barb,  wrap. 

r,  smooth  or  untrilled  (occurring  as  the  last  consonant,  or  last 
but  one  or  two,  in  a  syllable  or  word.  This  sound  should  be  so  fai 
heard  that,  for  example,  form  is  not  converted  into  fawm). — Abhor, 


12 


INTRODUCTION. 


bare,  energy,  expire,  err,  fir,  hire,  mercy,  mortgage,  murmuring, 
nor,  pardon,  torpor,  word. 

S,  aspirate,  as  in  sad. — Chasten,  design,  desists,  dose,  hosts,  mass, 
psalm,  scene,  scAism,  vaccinate,  verbose. 

sli,  aspirate,  as  in  shy. —  CAagrin,  cAaise,  cAarade,  cAarlatan, 
cAicane,  cAivalry,  conscious,  diversion,  macAine,  marsA,  sAall,  sAriek, 
sArill,  sArub,  special,  sugar,  sure,  version. 

t,  aspirate,  as  in  tent — Asthma,  bridle,  danced,  debt,  drought, 
flourished,  indict,  phthisic,  suMe,  taster,  taught,  thyme,  victual, 
wrecked,  yacht. 

til,  aspirate,  as  in  ^Ain. — Betro^Aed,  brea^A,  eighth,  oath,  mou^A, 
sixth,  thank,  truth,  truths,  twelfVA,  withe. 

th,  vocal,  as  in  ?Aine. — Ba^Ae,  ba^As,  beneafA,  blithe,  booth, 
booths,  mouth  (when  a  verb),  mouths,  oaths,  paths,  there,  thither, 
undernea^A,  unshea^Ae,  whither,  with,  witfAal,  wiz"Aer,  wi^Ahold,  wi^A- 
stand. 

V,  vocal,  as  in  valve. — Avarice,  brave,  nerve,  nepAew,  of,  Stephen, 
vivid,  void,  votive,  weave. 

W,  as  in  will  (in  one,  once,  the  o  stands  for  the  sound  of  u  short 
as  well  as  w). — Choir  (kwir),  cwirass  (kwe-ras7),  once,  one,  q?/ake, 
suite  (swet),  swear,  wayward,  ivine,  wormwood. 

wli,  aspirate,  as  in  wAit. —  PTAale,  wAat,  where,  when,  wAether, 
tvAile,  wAirl,  wAist,  wAisper,  white,  wAose. 

x,  aspirate,  like  ks,  as  in  box. — Except,  execute,  exhume,  com- 
pletion, next,  sexton,  taxes,  text. 

X,  vocal,  like  gz,  as  in  exert. — Exact,  exalt,  examine,  example, 
exempt,  exhale,  exotic,  anxiety. 

y,  as  in  yet. — Filial,  poniard,  rebellion,  yawn,  yield,  yon,  yonder, 
yore,  youth. 

z,  vocal,  as  in  zeal. — As,  bars,  caves,  disjoin,  dismal,  has,  hussars, 
is,  maze,  nasal,  observes,  possess,  scissors,  seas,  suffuse,  was,  A'erxes. 

z,  vocal,  like  zh,  as  in  azure. — Adhesion,  collision,  fusion,  glazier, 
leisure,  osier,  pleasure,  treasure,  vision. 

Aspirate  Consonant  Sounds. — Shape,  if,  laugh,  path, 
breath,  breaths,  pith,  health,  strength,  apt,  miss,  whip,  ax,  puff  d, 
stamp'd,  ink'd,  waltz,  inch,  milch,  sing'st,  gulfs,  expects,  next, 
wastes,  desks,  fifths,  twelfths,  milk'st,  flinch'd,  attempt'st,  texts, 
sixths,  betroth'd,  truths. 

Vocal  Consonant  Sonncls.— Babe,  trade,  egg,  leave,  of 
bathe,  breathe,  with,  beneath,  underneath,  ease,  as,  buzz,  ale,  isle 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


am,  tongue,  bulb,  build,  delve,  aims,  comes,  bronze,  pangs,  stabb'd, 
cabs,  odds,  liv'd,  grazed,  loaves,  bathes,  helm,  film,  lands,  change, 
delv'd,  shelves,  judg'd,  besieg'd,  bronz'd. 

Miscellaneous  Combinations. — Nymphs,  triumph'd, 
thump'st,  prompts,  wince,  avalanche,  plinth,  taunt'st,  filch'd, 
hold'st,  gulfs,  mulcts,  halt'st,  hark'dst,  warm'd'st,  harp'dst,  rippl'st, 
troubl'st,  trifl'dst,  laugh'st,  waft'st,  settl'd,  settl'dst,  hard'n'dst, 
did'st,  digg'st,  mask'st,  clasps,  insists,  driv'l,  driv'l'st,  driv'l'dst, 
muzzl  dst,  chasm,  chasms,  pris'n,  reas'n'd,  reas'n'dst,  reas'nst, 
shrink,  shroud,  push'd,  hush'd,  fetch'd,  scratch'd,  besieg'd. 

Pronunciation. — Among  the  most  common  errors  is  the 
omission  of  one  or  more  elements  in  a  word  ;  as,  sen's  for 
sends,  fac's  for  facts,  promp's  for  prompts,  sof'ly  for  softly, 
hist'ry  for  history,  etc.  Do  not  substitute  one  sound  for 
another,  as  in  saying  set  for  sit,  jest  for  just,  yit  for  yet,  sullar 
for  cellar,  crik  for  creek,  srill  for  shrill,  wen  for  when,  mornirC 
for  morning,  feller  for  fellow,  heerd  for  heard,  herth  for  hearth 
(the  ea  as  in  heart),  etc. 

Of  words  ending  in  -el,  -en,  -il,  -in  or  -on,  those  in  which 
the  unaccented  vowel  ought  to  be  sounded,  as  in  chicke?i, 
civil,  tendon,  etc.,  should  be  discriminated  from  those  in  which 
it  ought  to  be  silent,  as  in  often  (of 'n),  heaven  (hev'n),  even 
(ev'n),  cousin  (kuz'n),  etc. 

More  Common  Errors. — Do  not  interpose  a  vowel 
sound  between  I  or  5  and  m  in  such  words  as  elm,  helm,  chasm, 
etc.,  as  if  they  were  elum,  etc. 

Smooth  r  should  not  be  trilled,  as  in  saying  for-rm  for  form, 
nor  should  it  be  suppressed,  as  in  saying  faw  for  for,  nus  for 
nurse,  fust  for  first,  wus  for  worse,  nor  sounded  where  it  does 
not  properly  belong,  as  in  saying  lawr  for  law.  Words  in 
which  the  digraph  th  has  its  aspirate  sound,  as  in  thin,  should 
be  discriminated  from  those  where  it  has  its  vocal  sound,  as 
in  breaf/ie,  benea/A,  vrith,  etc.  Do  not  interpose  the  sound  of  * 
long  after  the  consonants  k  and  g  hard  preceding  the  sound 
of  i,  as  if  kind  were  ke-ind,  or  guide,  gee-ide.  Do  not  pervert 
the  sound  of  on  ( as  in  bound,  now)  into  eeow  or  aow,  as  if 
2fi 


14 


INTRODUCTION. 


cow  were  kaow  and  county,  kaounty.  The  pure  sound  of  oi 
must  not  be  changed  into  long  i,  as  if  joint  were  jint. 

When  a  word  ends  with  s  and  the  next  word  begins  with 
s,  the  sounds  must  be  distinctly  separated ;  as,  "  The  hosts 
.  .  .  still  fought ;"  "  the  mists  .  .  .  seem  gathering."  Do 
not  pervert  the  sound  of  aw  into  or ;  do  not  say  droving  for 
drawing. 

Accent. — By  Accent  we  mean  the  stress  of  the  voice  on 
a  certain  syllable  of  a  word  of  more  than  one  syllable.  This 
stress  may  be  indicated  to  the  eye  by  the  acute  accent,  thus : 
ex'ple-tive,  mu-se'um,  con-tra-dict'.  Several  words  which  are 
spelled  alike,  as  nouns  or  adjectives  and  verbs,  are  distin- 
guished, when  spoken,  by  a  difference  of  accent ;  as,  a  reb'el, 
to  re-bel' ;  an  in'sult,  to  in-sult' ;  a  per'fume,  to  per-fume' ;  fre'- 
quent,  to  fre-quent'. 

Emphasis. — The  sense  of  a  sentence  often  depends  on 
the  right  placing  of  the  emphasis.  Thus  in  the  question, 
"  Did  you  give  him  a  ripe  orange  ?"  the  direct  meaning  may 
be  taken  in  seven  different  ways,  according  as  the  emphasis 
is  laid  on  the  seven  words  separately.    See  page  120. 

Pans©. — There  are  two  kinds  of  pauses,  namely,  Gram- 
matical and  Rhetorical  pauses.  Grammatical  pauses  are  de- 
noted by  the  marks  of  punctuation,  as  the  comma,  semicolon, 
colon,  period,  etc.,  but  ordinary  punctuation  is  no  guide  for 
oratorical  pausing.  Many  more  pauses  than  are  indicated  to 
the  eye  ought  to  be  observed,  and  will  be  if  attention  is  given 
to  the  sense  or  the  emotional  quality  of  what  is  read. 

In  the  following  passages  the  dash  indicates  the  division  of 
the  sentence  at  which  the  longest  pause  may  be  made.  The 
points  or  dotted  places  indicate  that  an  inferior  momentary 
pause  may  take  place : 

"  I  am  persuaded  .  .  .  that  neither  death  nor  life  .  .  .  nor  angels  .  . 
nor  principalities  .  .  nor  powers  .  .  .  nor  things  present  .  .  .  nor  things 
to  come  .  .  .  nor  height  .  .  .  nor  depth  .  .  .  nor  any  other  creature- 
shall  be  able  to  separate  us  .  .  .  from  the  love  of  God." 

"  We  make  provision  for  this  life  ...  as  though  it  were  never  to  have 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 


an  end — and  for  the  other  life  ...  as  though  it  were  never  to  have  a 
heginning." 

Inflections. — When  you  utter  the  word  "Come!"  in  an 
entreating  sense,  the  tone  is  quite  different  from  that  which 
you  would  give  to  the  word  "  Go  !"  uttered  sternly.  These 
different  tones  are  called  inflections  of  the  voice,  and,  in  the 
foregoing  examples,  the  word  "  Come  "  has  the  Rising  inflec- 
tion and  the  word  "  Go  "  the  Falling.  These  inflections  natu- 
rally occur,  with  more  or  less  force,  in  reading  as  well  as  in 
our  common  conversation. 

In  counting  one,  two,  three,  etc.,  up  to  twelve,  we  give  the 
rising  inflection  to  every  number  till  we  come  to  the  last,  and 
to  that  we  give  the  falling.  In  the  question,  "  Did  you  say 
one?"  uttered  in  an  ordinary  tone  of  inquiry,  the  word  one 
takes  the  Rising  inflection.  In  the  question,  "  When  did  I 
say  one  ?"  uttered  without  some  modifying  emotion,  the  last 
word  takes  the  Falling  inflection. 

The  upward  or  Rising  inflection  is  usually  indicated  by  an 
acute  accent  ( f  ),  and  the  downward  or  Falling  inflection 
by  the  grave  accent  (  X  ).  The  Rising  inflection  is  that  tone 
which  we  give  to  what  is  incomplete  or  suspended  ;  as,  "  Did 
he  say  No7?"  It  is  the  tone  of  doubt  or  entreaty.  The 
Falling  inflection  is  the  tone  of  completeness  and  command. 

Indirect  questions,  or  those  commencing  with  an  adverb  or 
pronoun,  and  which  cannot  be  grammatically  answered  by  a 
simple  yes  or  no,  generally  take  the  Falling  inflection,  and  so 
do  the  answers  to  such  questions ;  as,  "  Where  is  he  goingv  ?" 
— " I  don't  knowV 

When  exclamatory  sentences  become  questions,  or  are  ex- 
pressive of  tender  emotions,  they  usually  take  the  Rising 
inflection  ;  as,  "  They  planted  by  your  care7  ?"  "  Ov !  my 
son  Absalom7 !"  But  passion  and  emphasis  break  through 
all  the  rules  that  can  be  laid  down  for  inflection.  When  the 
indirect  question  is  not  understood,  and  a  repetition  is  required, 
it  takes  the  Rising  inflection;  as.  "Whose  book  is  itv?" 
"  Mine\"    "  Whose  did  you  say7  ?" 


II) 


INTRODUCTION. 


Language  of  deep  emotion,  of  authority,  surprise,  denun- 
ciation or  terror,  generally  takes  the  Falling  inflection ;  as, 
"  Me  miserable*"  1"  "  What  a  piece  of  work  is  a  manN !" 
Words  and  clauses  connected  by  the  disjunctive  or  generally 
require  the  Rising  inflection  before  and  the  Falling  after  it  ; 
as,  "  Shall  we  go'  or  stayv  ?" 

The  Circumflex  is  a  combination  of  the  two  inflections. 
The  Falling,  followed  by  the  Rising,  may  be  indicated  to  the 
eye  thus  (V)  ;  the  Rising,  followed  by  the  Falling,  thus  (A^). 
These  tones  are  used  in  the  language  of  irony  and  derision  or 
of  contrast.    We  have  examples  of  both  in  the  following: 

"  Hear  him,  my  lord  ;  he  is  wondrous  condescending." 

Monotone. — When  no  inflection  is  used,  a  monotone  or 
sameness  of  tone  is  produced.  This,  though  generally  to  be 
avoided,  is  sometimes  appropriate  and  impressive,  especially 
in  sublime  or  solemn  passages. 

Parenthesis. — Parenthetical  sentences  require  the  tone 
to  be  somewhat  monotonous,  and  the  rate  of  utterance  rather 
more  rapid  than  in  the  j^rincipal  sentence.  The  parenthesis 
also  requires  a  slight  pause  both  before  and  after  it ;  as,  "  He 
said  (and  I  believed  him)  the  enemy  were  ten  thousand 
strong."    See  page  122. 

Vocal  Training, 

The  voice  should  be  well  exercised  on  the  Elementary 
Sounds,  for,  when  pronounced  singly,  these  will  receive  a  con- 
centration of  effort,  the  habit  of  which  will  ensure  distinctness 
and  force  in  the  compounds  of  speech. 

Exercise  of  the  Breath. — The  management  of  the 
breath  in  speaking  can  be  best  learned  from  the  individual's 
own  practice.  It  is  a  good  exercise  for  him  to  repeat  the  car- 
dinal numbers,  one,  two,  three,  etc.,  rapidly  up  to  twenty, 
first  inhaling  a  full  breath.  He  may,  by  practice,  make 
his  breath  hold  out  till  he  reaches  forty  and  more,  enun* 
ciating  every  syllable  distinctly.  , 


INTRODUCTION. 


17 


A  good  exercise  in  breathing  may  be  had  by  noting  the 
number  of  seconds  required  to  fill  the  lungs  by  slow  inhala- 
tion, and  then  by  slow  exhalation  ;  also  by  noting  how  many 
syllables  may  be  uttered  without  a  fresh  supply  of  breath. 

Gymnastic  Aids. — Preliminary  muscular  actions  are 
a  good  preparation  for  vocal  effort,  and  gymnastic  or  calis- 
thenic  exercises,  judiciously  regulated,  are  important  aids  in 
the  development  of  the  voice. 

Position  of  the  Body. — Teachers  should  be  especially 
careful  to  demand  of  the  pupil  a  proper  position  and  carriage 
of  the  body.  In  reading,  the  attitude  should  be  erect,  with- 
out stiffness,  and  the  chest  well  expanded.  A  constrained  or 
a  lounging  posture  is  fatal  to  a  free  and  spirited  use  of  the 
voice.  Let  the  teacher  see  that  even  in  his  manner  of  hold- 
ing the  book  the  pupil  conforms  to  the  rules  of  grace  and 
ease. 

Management  of  Voice. — The  medium  quality  of  every 
person's  voice  is  his  common  conversational  key,  which  is 
always  more  easy  and  graceful  than  any  other.  What  are 
generally  called  "  reading  tones,"  and  which  are  mostly  higher 
than  the  natural  key  pitch,  should  be  for  the  most  part 
avoided.  The  more  simple  and  natural  our  style,  the  more 
effective  it  must  always  be  to  the  ears  of  good  judges. 

Expressive  Delivery. — Having  acquired  that  control 
over  the  vocal  organs  which  will  render  the  effort  of  speech 
the  easiest  to  ourselves  and  the  most  agreeable  to  others,  we 
must  learn  to  convey  meaning  and  emotion  by  the  proper  use 
of  emphasis,  and  by  tones  in  sympathy  with  the  character  of 
the  words,  the  lan^uao-e  and  the  thought. 

To  attain  to  a  pathetic  eloquence,  the  pupil  must  realize 
the  significance  of  words.  Who,  in  uttering  the  following 
words, 

Slow,  rapid,  strength,  weakness,  harsh,  smooth,  torturing,  pleasing, 
exasperating,  tranquilizing,  crumble,  stumble,  crash  flash,  luminous, 
obscure,  split,  snap,  crackle,  purling,  rustling,  etc., 


18 


INTRODUCTION. 


does  not  feel  in  some  degree  the  ideas  they  impart  ?  How 
much  stronger,  then,  must  be  the  effect  when  such  expressive 
words  are  introduced  by  the  great  orator  or  poet  into  eloquent 
or  descriptive  speech ! 

Capabilities  of  the  Voice. — So  capable  of  variety  is 
the  human  voice  that,  like  a  well-tuned  instrument,  it  faith 
fully  responds  to  every  impulse  of  the  emotions.  In  joy  it 
is  clear,  animated  and  melodious ;  in  grief  it  is  soft,  plaintive 
and  interrupted ;  in  anger  it  is  harsh  and  hurrying,  and  may 
be  low  or  loud  according  to  the  circumstances ;  in  fear  it  is 
slow,  suppressed  and  hesitating.  Tender  and  flowing  in  per- 
suasion, it  is  stern  and  awful  in  threatening,  slow  in  conjec- 
ture and  firm  in  assertion.  In  applause  it  expands,  in  re- 
proach it  contracts.  It  warbles  in  pleasure,  swells  in  courage, 
storms  in  rage  and  thunders  in  command. 

Force. — No  direction  can  be  given  for  the  proper  employ- 
ment of  the  various  degrees  of  Force  :  their  use  is  dependent 
on  the  meaning  of  the  words  spoken,  the  situation  of  the 
supposed  speaker,  the  relative  positions  and  distances  of  the 
speaker  and  hearer,  and,  principally,  on  taste  and  judgment. 

Compass. — For  acquiring  extent  of  tone,  the  best  method 
is  for  the  pupil  to  practice  his  voice  by  raising  it  to  its  utmost 
extent  in  full  tones,  and  then  by  semi-tones  ;  after  that  let 
him  be  taught  to  fall,  by  just  progression,  to  its  lowest  pitch. 

For  instance,  in  the  passage,  "  Hear  me,  for  I  will  speak," 
let  the  first  word  hear  be  uttered  in  the  lowest  chest  tone  that 
you  can  render  articulate.  Speak  the  whole  sentence  in  that 
middle  range  which"  is  only  a  small  degree  above  a  whisper. 
The  next  time  pronounce  the  word  hear  a  full  note  higher 
than  the  former,  and  the  whole  sentence  accordingly.  Pro- 
ceed in  this  manner  till  you  reach  the  highest  note,  and  then 
descend  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest. 


near!   Hear!  Hear!  Hea~!  Hoar!  Hear!  Hear! 


THE  NEW 


AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER 


LESSON  I. 

Bulk,  size ;  mass.  I  Guess,  to  suppose. 

£f/fort,  trial ;  endeavor.  Shaft,  a  stem  ;  a  trunk. 

Fi'ber  or  Fi'bre,  any  fine,  slen-     State'ey,  grand  ;  lofty, 
der  thread  ;  a  filament.  Stu-pen/dous,  wonderful ;  vast. 


THE  TREE  THAT  WAS  ONCE  LITTLE. 


1.  Edwin  and  his  sister,  being  in  California  with 

their  father,  went  to  look  at  one  of  the  great  trees 

that  excite  so  much  wonder.    This  tree  was  called 

19 


20       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 

The  Giant,  and  its  bark  alone  was  two  feet  thick. 
If  the  trunk  had  been  cut  off  smoothly  near  its 
base,  fifty  horses  could  easily  have  stood  on  it 
together,  or  a  number  of  large  tents  could  have 
been  pitched  there. 

2.  "  How  old  do  you  think  this  tree  is  ?"  as&ed 
Edwin.  "  It  must  be  at  least  two  thousand  years 
old,"  said  his  father.  "  By  counting  the  circles  in 
its  woody  fiber  we  might  guess  its  age.  From  a 
little  seed  no  bigger  than  a  pea  this  huge  tree  has 
grown.  Little  by  little  it  has  taken  to  itself  bulk 
and  form ;  and  much  of  its  bulk  must  have  been 
got  from  the  air  alone. 

3.  "  Learn  from  this,  my  children,  what  may  be 
done  in  our  human  efforts  if  we  will  be  but  content 
to  grow  in  knowledge  little  by  little.  You  tell  me 
now  that  you  cannot  understand  many  things  in 
your  lessons,  that  you  do  not  know  the  meaning 
of  many  words  you  meet  with,  and  that  when  you 
see  how  much  there  is  to  learn  you  almost  despair. 

4.  "  Little  by  little,  if  you  will  but  try,  you  will 
grow  to  understand  what  now  seems  so  difficult. 
One  new  word  a  day  is  something  gained,  but  you 
can  do  better  than  that.  This  stupendous  tree  was 
once  a  slender  little  shoot.  It  had  the  winds  and 
storms  to  strive  against,  year  after  year,  until  it 
now  stands  a  tall,  stately  shaft  before  you." 

5.  When  Edwin  and  his  sister  went  back  to 
school  they  meditated  on  their  father's  words  ;  and 
afterwards  whenever  they  were  disposed  to  think 
lighily  of  small  beginnings,  they  called  to  mind 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  2] 

the  great  tree  in  California,  and  so  did  not  despair. 
"  If,"  thought  they,  "  a  tree  can  grow  so  in  bulk, 
why  may  not  we  grow  in  knowledge  ?"  and  they 
learned  to  be  patient  and  hopeful. 


LESS 

Ac-cept7,  to  receive ;  to  take. 
Claimed,  demanded ;  required. 
Cow/aed-ly,  meanly  timid. 
Fam'i-ly,  those  living  in  the  same 
house. 

Gla'zier  (gla/zhur),  one  who  sets 
window-glass. 


ON  II. 

Pace/age,  a  bundle ;  a  bale. 
Pane,  a  square,  particularly  of 
glass. 

Kead'i-ness,  promptness. 
Sgn/-shade,  a  small  parasol. 
Temper,  due  mixture;  disposi- 
tion ;  humor ;  mood. 


THE  BEOKEX  PANE. 

1.  At  our  school  there  was  a  boy  of  the  name 
of  Robert  Rich.  One  day  he  was  throwing  stones, 
when  he  hit  a  window  and  broke  a  pane  of  glass. 
No  person  had  seen  him  throw  the  stone.  He 
might  have  slunk  away  and  kept  his  act  a  secret, 
if  he  had  not  been  too  noble  a  boy  to  do  such  a 
meanness. 

2.  Mr.  Hard  wick,  who  lived  in  the  house  where 
the  window  was  broken,  was  a  lawyer,  and  seemed 
to  be  of  a  stern,  harsh  temper,  for  he  used  to  scold 
the  boys  if  they  but  crossed  his  fields,  or  even  en- 
tered his  woods.    Robert  did  not  like  to  meet  him. 

3.  But  Robert  had  more  fear  of  doing  wrong 
than  of  facing  the  anger  of  the  lawyer  and  all  his 
family.  So  he  went  up  tc  Mr.  Hardwick  and  said, 
"  In  throwing  a  stone  just  now,  I  broke  a  pane  of 
glass  in  one  of  your  upper  windows."    "  Well, 


22        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


then,  you  must  send  a  glazier  and  have  it  mended/5 
said  Mr.  Hardwick  in  an  angry  tone. 

4.  "  That  is  just  what  I  wished  to  do,"  said 
.Robert,  "  and  I  will  do  it  at  once/'  Struck  by 
this  manly  reply,  Mr.  Hardwick  asked  Robert  if  he 
had  any  money  to  pay  the  glazier.  "  Yes,"  said 
Robert,  "  I  have  a  dollar  that  I  have  been  saving 
up." 

5.  "  What  have  you  been  saving  it  up  for  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Hardwick.  "  I  have  been  saving  it  up  to  buy 
my  sister  a  sun-shade,"  replied  Robert.  "  Well, 
sir,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  I  look  to  you  to  see  that 
my  window  is  mended." 

6.  Robert  bowed  and  took  his  leave.  That  same 
day  he  sent  a  glazier  and  had  a  new  pane  of  glass 
set  in  place  of  the  broken  one.  He  felt  that  Mr. 
Hardwick  had  claimed  of  him  no  more  than  was 
right,  and  he  did  not  blame  him. 

7.  But  as  Robert  sat  studying  his  lesson  that 
evening  the  door-bell  was  rung,  and  a  package  was 
left  for  him.  He  opened  it,  and  what  do  you  think 
he  found  ?  In  the  package  was  a  beautiful  silk 
sun-shade,  and  with  it  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hardwick 
in  these  words :  "  Accept  this  as  a  proof  that  I  was 
pleased  by  your  readiness  in  doing  right  to-day." 

8.  Robert  ran  and  gave  the  sun-shade  to  his 
sister,  and  she  was  so  delighted  with  the  gift  that 
she  almost  wept  in  her  joy.  His  father,  when  he 
learned  what  had  happened,  said  to  Robert,  "  We 
should  always  do  right  for  the  love  of  right,  and 
not  in  the  hope  of  a  reward." 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


23 


9.  "I  am  sure  I  did  not  hope  for  a  reward,"  said 
Robert.  "I  should  still  have  been  glad  that  I 
paid  for  mending  the  window,  even  if  I  had  got 
nothing  in  return,  for  surely  I  deserved  nothing. 
I  see  that  a  man  may  seem  stern,  like  Mr.  Hard- 
wick,  and  yet  be  kind  at  heart." 


LESSON  III. 


Be-guii/i^g,   cheat)  ag ;  deceiv- 
ing. 

En-no'bling,  making  noble. 
Grov'el-ixg  (grtiv'vl),  creeping 

close  to  the  earth  ;  mean. 
In-tel'li-gence,  mental  power; 

knowledge. 
Jour'neyed,  traveled. 
Muse,  to  meditate,  to  think. 


O'er-take',  a  contraction  of  over- 
take. 

Quelled,  crushed ;  subdued. 
Quest,  the  act  of  seeking. 
Sloth/ful-ly,  idly ;  lazily. 
Tar/ried,  delayed ;  stayed. 
Wist'ful,  attentive ;  earnest. 
World'ling,    one    devoted  tc 
worldly  things. 


THE  STEEET  OF  BY-AND-BY. 
"  By  the  street  of  '  By-and-By'  one  arrives  at  the  house  of  '  Never.'  "— 
Old  Saying. 

I. 

Oh,  shun  the  spot,  my  youthful  friends ; 

I  urge  you  to  beware ! 
Beguiling  is  the  pleasant  way, 

And  softly  breathes  the  air  ; 
Yet  none  have  ever  passed  to  scenes 

Ennobling,  great  and  high, 
Who  once  began  to  linger 
In  the  street  of  By-and-By. 

II. 

A  youth  aspired  to  climb  the  height 
Of  Learning's  lofty  hill : 


24 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


What  dimmed  his  bright  intelligence? 

What  quelled  his  earnest  will  ? 
Why  did  the  object  of  his  quest 

Still  mock  his  wistful  eye  ? 
Too  long,  alas !  he  tarried 

In  the  street  of  By-and-By. 

III. 

"  My  projects  thrive,"  the  merchant  said  ; 
"  When  doubled  is  my  store, 
How  freely  shall  my  ready  gold 

Be  showered  among  the  poor !" 
Vast  grew  his  wealth,  yet  strove  he  not 

The  mourner's  tear  to  dry  ; 
He  never  journeyed  onward 

From  the  street  of  By-and-By. 

IV. 

The  wearied  worldling  muses 

Upon  lost  and  wasted  days, 
Resolved  to  turn  hereafter 

From  the  error  of  his  ways — 
To  lift  his  groveling  thoughts  from  earth, 

And  fix  them  on  the  sky  ; 
Why  does  he  linger  fondly 

In  the  street  of  By-and-By  ? 

V. 

Oh,  shun  the  spot,  my  youthful  friends  ; 

Work  on,  while  yet  you  may ; 
Let  not  old  age  o'ertake  you 

As  you  slothfully  delay, — 
Lest  you  should  gaze  around  you, 

And  discover,  with  a  sigh, 
You  have  reached  the  house  of  "  Never,'* 

Through  the  street  of  "  By-and-By." 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


2b 


LESSON  IV. 


a  baser  metal  that  is  |  Her'o-ism  (-izm),  quality  of  a 


Al-loy 

mixed  with  a  finer  one. 

Engine  (en'jm),  a  contrivance;  a 
machine. 

For'far-shire  (-sheer),  a  county 
of  Scotland. 

Ful-fill'ment,  or  Fulfil- 
ment, completion ;  execution. 

Herb'age  (erb-,  or  herb-),  pas- 
ture ;  grass  ;  herbs  collectively  : 
green  food  for  beasts 


hero. 

Lan/tern,  a  case  for  a  candle  ; 

the  upper  part  of  a  lighthouse. 
Mus/cu-lar,  strong ;  brawny. 
Pul'mo-na-ry,  relating   to  the 
lungs. 

Keef,  a  ridge  of  rocks  near  the 

surface  of  the  water. 
Wrought    (rawt),  worked:  ef- 
fected. 

Jhe  e  in  heroism  should  have  the  sound  of  e  in  terror.  Avoid  intro- 
ducing a  decided  vowel  sound  before  the  m  in  -ism  (izm).  Do  not  say 
air  for  a  v  (pronounced  r).    Do  not  say  iremendyus  for  tre-men'dous. 


FEMALE  HEROISM. 
1.  On  the  north-eastern  part  of  the  coast  of  Eng- 
land are  several  small  islands,  known  as  the  Fern 

27 


26       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Islands.  They  are  separated  from  the  mainland 
by  a  channel  not  two  miles  broad.  They  are 
chiefly  composed  of  rock,  with  here  and  there  a 
slight  covering  of  herbage. 

2.  On  the  largest  of  these  little  islands,  which  is 
called  Longstone,  there  is  a  lighthouse,  which  in 
the  year  1838  was  kept  by  a  man  named  Darling. 
He  had  a  wife  and  several  children,  among  whom 
was  a  daughter,  Grace  Darling,  twenty-two  years 
old. 

3.  On  the  night  of  September  6th  there  was  a 
terrible  storm.  Grace  woke  up  several  times,  and 
thought  of  the  poor  mariners  exposed  to  the  winds 
and  the  waves.  She  looked  out  from  her  little 
window,  but  could  see  nothing  but  the  reflection 
of  light  from  the  lantern,  for  the  sky  was  clouded, 
while  the  waves,  wrapt  in  mist,  were  foaming 
furiously  against  the  rocks. 

4.  Uttering  a  prayer  for  the  sailors,  she  again 
lay  down  on  her  bed,  but  with  the  earliest  gleam 
of  daylight  she  rose  and  dressed  herself.  Then 
taking  a  spyglass,  she  looked  out  upon  the  rough, 
tumbling  waters,  and  through  the  mist,  to  see  if 
there  were  any  signs  of  a  wreck. 

5.  She  had  not  looked  a  minute  before  her  heart 
began  to  throb  violently,  for  there,  about  a  mile 
distant,  on  a  reef  running  out  into  the  sea,  lay  the 
remnant  of  a  ship,  while  on  it  were  human  beings 
waiting  for  rescue.  It  was  the  wreck  of  the  For- 
farshire steamer. 

6.  This  steamer  had  sailed  the  night  before  froin 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


27 


Hull  on  a  voyage  to  Dundee  in  Scotland.  At 
starting  she  had  on  board  sixty-three  persons.  A 
storm  struck  her,  and  she  leaked  so  badly  the  tires 
could  not  be  kept  burning,  and  her  engines  soon 
ceased  to  work.  She  became  unmanageable,  and 
drifted  onto  the  reef. 

7.  At  once  all  was  confusion  among  the  crew. 
A  portion  of  them,  including  the  first  mate,  low- 
ered one  of  the  boats  and  left  the  ship.  With 
them  was  a  single  cabin  passenger  who  threw  him- 
self into  the  boat  by  means  of  a  rope.  These  men 
were  picked  up  after  some  hours,  and  carried  into 
the  port  of  Shields. 

8.  A  second  shock,  that  dashed  the  steamer 
farther  upon  the  reef,  caused  her  to  break  into  two 
pieces.  The  after-part,  on  which  were  most  of  the 
passengers  and  the  captain  and  his  wife,  was  swept 
away  by  a  tremendous  current,  and  all  upon  it 
were  lost. 

9.  The  fore-part  of  the  vessel,  on  which  were 
five  of  the  crew  and  four  passengers,  stuck  fast  to 
the  rock.  These  few  survivors  remained  in  their 
dreadful  situation  till  daybreak,  with  a  fearful  sea 
running  around  them.  With  what  anxious  eyes 
did  they  wait  for  the  morning  light ! 

10.  These  were  the  people  whom  Grace  saw 
through  the  spy-glass.  Calling  her  father  she 
pointed  them  out  to  him.  What  could  be  done  ? 
None  of  the  family  were  at  home  except  Mrs. 
Darling,  Grace  and  her  father.  "  What  can  we  do 
for  these  poor  sufferers  ?"  askpd  Grace. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


11.  "  I  do  not  see  that  we  can  help  them,"  replied 
her  father.  "  It  would  be  impossible  for  one  man 
to  manage  a  boat  in  such  a  sea  as  that.  Even  two 
men,  if  they  attempted  it,  would  do  it  at  the  peril 
of  their  lives."  "  But  we  must  not  leave  those 
poor  creatures  to  perish  !"  cried  Grace.  "  How  can 
we  help  it  ?"  answered  Mr.  Darling. 

12.  "  Father,  I  can  pull  an  oar  with  you,"  ex- 
claimed Grace.  "  You  !  Why,  Grace,  you  never 
pulled  an  oar  in  such  a  sea  as  that.  You  haven't 
the  strength,  you  haven't  the  courage."  "Try 
me,"  said  Grace  ; — "  Oh,  father,  let  us  save  them. 
God  will  give  us  strength,  if  we  will  but  heartily 
venture  in  so  good  a  cause." 

13.  Her  earnest  entreaties  finally  induced  Mr. 
Darling  to  make  the  attempt.  With  the  mother's 
assistance  the  boat  was  launched,  and  father  and 
daughter  entered  it,  each  taking  an  oar.  It  was 
only  by  the  exertion  of  great  muscular  strength, 
as  well  as  by  the  utmost  coolness  and  resolution, 
that  they  rowed  the  boat  up  to  the  reef  .amid  the 
foam  and  dash  of  the  breakers. 

14.  What  was  the  amazement  of  the  people  on 
the  wreck  at  seeing  that  one  of  the  two  coming  to 
the  rescue  was  a  girl !  As  the  boat  drew  near,  it 
required  great  care  to  so  manage  it  as  to  prevent  its 
being  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  sharp  ridge  which 
had  proved  fatal  to  the  steamer.  With  much  diffi- 
culty the  father  scrambled  up  on  the  rock,  and  the 
boat  was  left  for  a  while  to  the  unaided  skill  of  the 
daughter. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  29 


15.  She  proved  equal  to  the  occasion.  The  nine 
sufferers  were  safely  rescued  and  conveyed  to  the 
lighthouse.  The  poet  Wordsworth  has  eloquently 
described  the  scene : 

"  Every  hazard  faced, 
And  difficulty  mastered,  with  resolve 
That  no  one  breathing  should  be  left  to  perish, 
This  last  remainder  of  the  crew  are  all 
Placed  in  the  little  boat,  then  o'er  the  deep 
Are  safely  borne,  landed  upon  the  beach, 
And,  in  fulfillment  of  God's  mercy,  lodged 
Within  the  sheltering  lighthouse.    Shout,  ye  waves! 
Send  forth  a  sound  of  triumph.    Waves  and  winds, 
Exult  in  this  deliverance,  wrought  through  faith 
In  Him  whose  Providence  your  rage  has  served  ! 
Ye  screaming  sea-mews,  in  the  concert  join !" 

16.  Grace  Darling  did  not  live  long  to  enjoy  the 
fame  which  her  noble  deed  soon  won  for  her.  In 
the  autumn  of  1841  she  showed  symptoms  of  pul- 
monary disease,  and  though  all  the  means  of  resto- 
ration which  medical  skill  could  suggest  were 
resorted  to,  she  gradually  declined,  and  breathed 
her  last  in  calm  submission  to  the  will  of  God, 
October  20,  1842. 

17.  But  the  memory  of  her  act  will  not  perish. 
Heroism  like  hers  is  one  of  the  noblest  attributes 
of  the  soul  of  man.  It  has  no  alloy  of  blind  animal 
passion  ;  it  is  spiritual  and,  we  may  reverently  add, 
celestial.  Never  does  man  appear  more  distinctly 
in  the  image  of  his  Maker  than  when,  like  the 
generous  Grace  Darling,  he  deliberately  exposes 
his  own  life  to  save  the  lives  of  others. 

27  * 


30        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  V. 


Jail,  a  prison. 

Listened  (lis'snd),  gave  ear. 
Pas'sen-ger,  one  that  travels. 


Re-stored7,  healed ;  revived. 
Signs,  tokens ;  proofs. 
Sly'ly,  cunningly. 


BEEATHE  PURE  AIR. 


1.  Some  girls  and  boys  were  playing  at  hide- 
and-seek,  when  Mark  Hanson  saw  Mary  Bancroft 
go  and  hide  in  a  large  chest.  Mark  thought  it 
would  be  good  sport  to  lock  Mary  up  in  the  chest ; 
so  he  went  slyly  and  pressed  down  the  cover  and 
turned  the  key. 

2.  Mary  made  an  outcry  when  she  found  she 
was  locked  in.  Mark  did  not  heed  her  cries,  but 
ran  off  and  played  for  some  time  with  the  other 
girls  and  boys. 

3.  At  last  some  one  asked,  "  Where  is  Mary  ?" 
To  which  Mark  replied,  "  I  have  played  a  good 
trick  on  Mary.  Let  us  go  now  and  let  her  out  of 
jail."  So  Mark  led  the  way  to  the  chest,  and 
cried,  "  Halloo  !    Do  you  wish  to  be  let  out  ?" 

4.  To  this  question  no  answer  came.  Mark  lis- 
tened, but  could  hear  no  noise  in  the  trunk.  He 
turned  the  key  and  lifted  the  cover.  What  was 
his  horror  on  finding  Mary  motionless  and  sense- 
less !  An  alarm  was  raised  at  once,  and  the  doctor 
was  sent  for. 

5.  For  more  than  an  hour  it  was  believed  that 
Mary  was  dead.  But  at  length  she  gave  some 
signs  of  life.  The  doctor  worked  with  new  zeal, 
and,  after  much  effort,  she  was  restored.    Then  the 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  31 


doctor  turned  to  Mark,  and  said,  "  Were  you  such 
a  little  dunce  as  not  to  know  that  without  fresh  air 
we  cannot  live  ?  Come  here,  girls  and  bovs,  and 
remember  this :  though  we  may  take  pure  air 
into  our  lungs,  we  do  not  breathe  pure  air  out. 

6.  "  The  air  which  we  breathe  out  is  not  fit  to  be 
breathed  in  again.  We  soon  use  up,  in  this  way, 
all  the  pure  air  about  us.  So  we  must  have  a  fresh 
supply.  As  soon  as  Mary  had  breathed  in  all  the 
good  air  that  was  in  the  trunk,  there  was  nothing 
left  but  poisoned  air.  If  fresh  air  had  not  been 
given  to  her  by  opening  the  trunk,  she  could  not 
have  lived  three  minutes  longer. 

7.  "  Nothing  is  so  needful  to  health  as  good, 
pure  air.  Whether  you  are  in  the  school-room  or 
in  the  house,  remember  this.  Bad  air  is  so  much 
poison,  and  the  more  we  breathe  it,  the  worse  it 
gets.  The  poison  is  carbonic  acid,  and  to  breathe 
it  long  is  certain  death. 

8.  "  Not  many  years  ago,  during  a  storm  at  sea, 
a  stupid  sea-captain  ordered  his  passengers  to  go 
below  in  the  hold  of  the  vessel.  Then  he  covered 
up  the  hold,  so  that  no  fresh  air  could  enter.  When 
the  storm  was  over  he  opened  the  hold,  and  found 
that  seventy  human  beings  had  died  for  want  of 
pure  air. 

9.  "  Through  his  gross  ignorance  of  the  laws  of 
life  he  had  done  all  this  mischief.  Remember, 
boys,  what  I  say :  insist  on  having  good  air ;  for 
impure  air,  though  it  may  not  always  kill  you,  is 
always  bad  for  your  health." 


32 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  VI 


Al-lot/teb,  granted;  given. 
Ap-pear'ance,  coming  in  sight. 
Ap-point'ed,  fixed  upon. 
Ar-ranged',  put  in  place. 
Ar'ti-cles,  distinct  things. 
De-pos'it-ing,  placing. 
In-closed/  or  En-closed7,  shut 

in ;  fenced ;  encompassed. 
Groups  (groops),  small  crowds. 
Ljn'en,  cloth  of  flax  or  hemp. 
Ma-nure',  anything  that  fertilizes 

land. 


Prone,  habitually  inclined. 
Ref'use,  worthless  remains. 
Kub/bish,  things  waste  or  cask 
.  away. 

Scav/en-ger  (skav/en-jer),  one 

who  cleans  streets. 
Sep/a-rat-ing,  dividing  from  the 

rest. 

Wag'on,  a  vehicle  on  four  wheels. 
Wool/ en  or  Wooi/len,  made  of 
wool. 

YoN/DER,at  a  distance  within  view. 


Give  u  in  manure,  fortune,  manufacturer,  its  y  sound  as  in  mule.  Do 
not  say  manoor.  fortoon,  etc.  Do  not  say  narrer  for  nar'row,  wJieel- 
barrer  for  wheel-bar' row,  fust  for  first,  appinted  for  ap-point'ed. 

EVERY  THING  IS  OF  USE. 

1.  Young  people  are  too  prone  to  waste.  Listen 
to  a  true  story.  When  I  was  a  young  man  I  lived 
in  London,  and  lodged  in  a  very  narrow  street. 
There  came  to  this  street,  once  or  twice  a  week,  a 
man  of  the  name  of  Bryant.  He  would  come 
with  a  wheelbarrow  and  a  broom,  sweep  the  street, 
and  carry  off  all  the  refuse. 

2.  In  the  course  of  a  few  months,  Bryant  made 
his  appearance  with  a  small  cart,  drawn  by  a  donkey, 
and  not  long  after,  he  came  with  a  wagon  and 
horses.  The  next  year  he  had  quite  a  number  of 
wagons  and  horses,  and  became  the  scavenger  of  a 
large  part  of  London.  And  what  do  you  think  he 
did  with  the  masses  of  filth  which  he  collected  ? 

3.  He  hired  a  large  field  not  far  from  the  city ; 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  33 


he  inclosed  it  with  a  wall,  in  which  there  were 
twelve  or  fifteen  gates,  and  at  each  of  these  gates 
you  might  see  wagons  entering  and  depositing 
their  contents  in  heaps.  On  these  heaps  might  be 
seen  groups  of  women  and  children,  hired  for  the 
purpose,  poking  and  scraping,  with  a  view  of  sepa- 
rating articles  of  the  same  class  or  kind,  and  laying 
these  in  places  by  themselves. 

4.  Here  is  a  piece  of  black  iron — that  goes 
there.  Here  is  a  bit  of  white  iron,  or  tin — that 
goes  yonder.  Here  is  a  rag  of  linen,  or  one  of  cot- 
ton cloth — these  are  placed  on  the  spot  allotted  to 
each.  Here  is  an  old  hat — that  goes  to  its  ap- 
pointed corner.  And  so  with  bits  of  leather,  and 
of  rope,  with  scraps  of  woolen  stuff,  with  bones,  the 
horns  and  hoofs  of  oxen  and  sheep,  and  with  each 
of  a  great  mass  of  other  things. 

5.  Now,  having  thus  collected  and  arranged  all 
this  rubbish  and  refuse,  Bryant  found  a  use,  and  a 
profitable  use,  too,  for  every  one  of  the  various  ar- 
ticles which  had  been  thrown  away  as  utterly  use- 
less. His  linen  rags  he  sold  to  the  paper-makers ; 
his  bits  of  brass  and  iron,  to  brass  and  iron  found- 
ers ;  his  pieces  of  bone  and  horns,  either  to  farm- 
ers for  manure,  or  to  the  manufacturers  of  knife- 
handles  and  combs. 

6.  Gradually  and  laboriously  he  extended  his 
trade,  and  at  last  retired  with  a  large  fortune. 
Many  years  after  the  time  when  I  first  saw  him 
with  his  wheelbarrow,  I  found  him,  an  elderly 
man,  riding  about  the  streets  in  his  carriage.  From 


34 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


his  experience  you  may  see  that  everything  is  of 
use,  and  may  be  turned  to  account.  There  ia 
nothing  that  should  be  reckoned  utterly  worthless, 
and  a  thousand  things  might  be  turned  to  some 
good  purpose  that  are  every  hour  heedlessly  thrown 
away. 

LESSON  VII. 


DE-Ri/siox(de-rizh/un),  mockery ; 
contempt  by  laughter. 

Doz'en  (duz'zn),  twelve. 

Faith'ful,  firm  to  the  truth. 

Feat,  an  act;  an  exploit. 

Re- plied',  answered. 

Shrcg,  a  drawing  up  of  the  shoul- 
ders. (Do  not  say  srug  for  shrug.) 


Trav'el-er  or  Trav'el-ler,  one 

who  travels. 
We'll,  a  contraction  of  we  will. 
Wit'ness-es,  persons  who  see  and 

testify. 

Yard,  a  measure  of  three  feet. 
Yon,  a  short  distance  off. 
You'll,  a  contraction  of  you  trill. 


THE  BOASTING  TRAVELER. 
I. 

A  fellow  who  had  been  in  Rome 
Was  boasting  to  the  folks  at  home. 

II. 

"  Once,  when  I  was  in  Rome,"  he  said, 
"  A  leap  of  twenty  yards  I  made 

Over  a  bar  placed  ten  feet  high  : 

A  dozen  witnesses  were  by." 

III. 

His  hearers  at  each  other  wink, 
Or  by  a  shrug  tell  what  they  think. 

IV. 

"  Come  on,"  says  one  who  near  him  stood ; 
"  Yon  empty  ditch  and  fence  of  wood 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  35 


Are  not  by  half  so  high  or  wide; 
Here  let  the  feat  again  be  tried." 

V. 

"  Yes,"  cried  another,  "  if  you'll  do 
But  half,  we'll  think  your  story  true. 
Suppose  yourself  at  Rome,  and  we 
Your  faithful  witnesses  will  be." 

VI. 

The  man  replied :  "  Ah !  I  to-day 
Am  not  quite  well,"  then  stole  awav, 
While  bursts  of  laughter,  long  and  loud, 
Told  the  derision  of  the  crowd. 

VII. 

Avoid  the  boasting  vein,  if  you 

Would  not  be  scorned  and  laughed  at  too. 


LESSON  VIII. 


Dock7- yard,  a  place  where  ships 

are  built  or  repaired. 
Don't,  a  contraction  of  do  not. 
Hi  ll,  the  body  of  a  ship. 
Im-mlnse',  very  great. 
In'flu-ence,  a  directing  power. 


Launched  (lunched),  moved  inti 

the  water. 
Massive,  heavy  ;  bulky. 
Oft'en  (of'n),  frequently. 
SuG-aEST/(sug-jest/or  sud-jest/),to 

hint. 


WHAT  A  LITTLE  HELP  MAY  DO. 

1.  We  have  somewhere  read  that  at  an  English 
dockyard  a  great  ship  was  to  be  launched :  an  im- 
mense multitude  assembled  to  see  it  glide  down  the 
slides  that  were  to  send  it  into  the  water.  The 
blocks'  and  wedges  were  knocked  away,  but  the 
massive  hull  did  not  stir,  and  there  was  disappoint- 
ment. 


36        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


2.  Just  then  a  little  boy  ran  forward,  and  began 
to  pusli  the  ship  with  all  his  might.  The  crowd 
broke  out  into  a  laugh  of  ridicule,  but  it  so  hap- 
pened that  the  vessel  was  almost  ready  to  move : 
the  few  pounds  pushed  by  the  lad  were  all  that 
were  needed  to  start  it,  and  away  it  went  into  the 
water. 

3.  This  teaches  an  important  lesson  to  every 
boy  and  girl.  You  often  think  that  the  little  you 
can  do  is  of  no  account.  You  don't  know  that. 
A  little  word,  a  kind  act,  however  small,  may  be, 
and  often  is,  the  turning-point  in  one's  own  his- 
tory, and  sometimes  of  great  imj)ortance  in  its 
influence  upon  others. 

4.  A  good  deed,  or  the  resistance  of  a  tempta- 
tion, may  start  up  good  thoughts  in  the  mind  of  a 
playmate  and  lead  to  other  good  thoughts  and 
deeds.  The  train  of  thought  in  one's  mind  is  like 
a  train  of  cars.  The  little  iron  frog  or  tongue  on 
the  rail,  no  larger  than  your  finger  at  its  point, 
may  direct  the  locomotive  upon  the  right  track, 
or,  if  wrongly  placed,  may  turn  the  engine  aside, 
and  hurl  it  down  a  steep  bank  to  fearful  destruc- 
tion. So  the  smallest  word  may  start  the  mind  on 
a  right  or  wrong  track. 

5.  Young  friends,  your  little  words,  little 
thoughts  and  little  works  are  important.  Strive 
earnestly  to  be  right,  noble,  generous,  at  all  times, 
in  secret  and  in  public.  When,  in  the  future,  we 
come  to  see  the  great  map  of  human  action  spread 
out,  it  will  be  found  that  we  have  been  daily  exert- 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  37 


ins:  an  influence  that  is  affecting  the  characters  of  all 
with  whom  we  come  in  contact.  Give  a  good  push 
at  the  ship  :  do  a  good  deed,  no  matter  how  trifling, 
whenever  and  wherever  vou  can,  and  trust  to  God 
for  the  result. 


LESSON  IX. 


Can't,  a  contraction  of  can  not. 
Coust'er,  the  table  of  a  shop  on 

which  money  is  counted. 
Crice/et,  an  insect ;  a  stool  ;  a 

game. 

Dox't,  a  contraction  of  do  not. 


Hearth  (harth),  a  place  for  a  fire 

under  a  chimney. 
Hur'ried,  did  hurry. 
Ma'am,  a  contraction  of  madam. 
Rogue  (rog),  a  knave. 
Sought,  did  seek. 


m 


THE  BOY  WHO  WANTED  A  CRICKET. 
1.  Oxce,  on  the  first  of  April,  a  little  boy  went 
out  into  the  streets  of  a  large  city  to  see  if  he  could 
find  such  a  thing  as  a  live  cricket.    He  looked  by 


2ft 


38 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


the  side  of  all  the  trees,  and  in  every  place  where 
a  blade  of  grass  was  to  be  seen,  but  nowhere  could 
he  find  what  he  sought. 

2.  At  last  he  stopped  a  man  and  said,  "  Please, 
sir,  have  you  such  a  thing  as  a  cricket  you  could 
give  me?"  The  man  took  him  by  the  ear  and 
replied,  "  You  little  rogue !  you  think  to  make  an 
April  fool  of  me,  do  you?  What  is  your  name, 
sir?" 

3.  My  name  is  Frank  May,"  said  the  little  boy, 
"  and  I'll  thank  you  to  let  go  of  my  ear."  "  Well, 
Frank,  you  must  not  play  tricks  on  travelers,"  said 
the  man  as  he  pinched  the  lad's  ear  and  walked 
on.  Then  Frank  saw  a  boy  of  his  own  age,  and 
went  up  to  him  and  asked,  "  Do  your  folks  have 
such  a  thing  as  a  live  cricket  in  the  house  ?" 

4.  "  That  means  you  want  to  have  a  fight,  does 
it  ?"  replied  the  boy.  "  Well,  I'm  ready  for  you. 
You  will  be  the  third  fellow  I  have  fought  to-day." 
And  the  boy  threw  down  his  hat,  took  off  his 
jacket,  and  rolled  up  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt. 

5.  Frank  said  that  he  had  not  come  out  for  a 
fight ;  that  he  had  no  time  for  a  fight ;  that  he  had 
come  out  for  a  cricket,  and  a  cricket  he  must  find. 
"  But  if  you  can't  get  along  without  a  fight,"  ad- 
ded Frank,  "  come  on  quick,  because  I'm  in  a 
hurry." 

6.  "  Oh,  go  and  find  your  cricket,"  said  the 
boy.  So  Frank  walked  on  till  he  came  to  a 
baker's  shop,  where  he  saw  three  women  behind 
a  counter,  and  loaves  of  bread  on  the  shelves. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  39 


Frank  went  into  the  shop,  and  said  to  one  of  the 
women,  "  Please,  ma'am,  can  yon  let  me  have  a 
cricket  ?"  "  We  sell  bread  here,  not  crickets,  my 
little  man,"  said  the  woman.  "  But  what  do  you 
want  with  a  cricket?" 

7.  "  Don't  crickets  on  the  hearth  bring  good 
luck  ?"  asked  Frank.  "  Well,  I  have  heard  folks 
say  so,"  replied  the  woman,  "  but  I  think  they  said 
it  in  jest.  The  best  way  to  get  good  luck  is  to 
seize  it  by  hard  work.  That  is  the  way  I  got  all 
my  good  luck." 

8.  "  My  mother  has  worked  till  she  is  ill,"  said 
Frank,  "  and  last  night  I  woke  up  late  and  found 
her  crying,  and  now  I  want  her  to  have  some  good 
luck."  "Have  you  no  father?"  asked  the  shop- 
woman.  "  My  father  was  lost  at  sea  last  spring," 
said  Frank.  "  And  how  many  children  has  your 
mother  ?"  "  She  has  three  in  all,  and  I  am  the 
oldest."  "  And  how  old  are  you,  little  boy  ?"  "  I 
shall  be  seven  years  old  next  June." 

9.  "  Well,  my  boy,"  said  the  woman,  "  now  take 
these  three  loaves  of  bread  home  to  your  mother, 
and  then  come  back  and  see  me."  With  a  glad 
smile  Frank  said,  "  Thank  you !"  and  took  the 
bread.  He  hurried  home  with  it,  and  then  hur- 
ried back  to  see  the  good  woman. 

10.  She  said,  "  I  know  you  must  be  a  good  boy, 
for  you  love  your  mother.  I  cannot  give  you  a 
cricket,  but  I  can  give  you  a  place  as  an  errand- 
boy  in  our  shop.  Only  do  well,  and  your  mother's 
luck  lies  with  you,  and  not  with  the  crickets." 


40        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


11.  Frank  did  do  well — so  well  that  he  never 
woke  up  after  that  in  the  night  to  find  his  dear 
mother  shedding  tears.  By  his  good  conduct  he 
helped  and  cheered  her  so  that  she  had  no  cause  to 
weep,  unless  it  was  with  joy. 


LESSON  X. 

Pat'ron-age,  support;    protec-    Ap-pro-ba'tion,  act  of  approv 

tion.  ing  ;  a  liking. 

A  te  (tite  or  6t),  preterit  of  eat.         Res'o-lute,  bold ;  firm. 

THE  EXCELLENT  MAN. 
I. 

They  gave  me  advice  and  plenty  of  praise, 
Promised  to  help  me  in  various  ways, 
Said  that  I  only  should  "  wait  a  while," 
And  offered  their  patronage  with  a  smile. 

II. 

But  with  all  their  honor  and  approbation, 
I  should  long  ago  have  died  of  starvation, 
If  an  excellent  man,  with  a  resolute  heart, 
Had  not  come  forward  to  take  my  part. 

III. 

Good  fellow  !  he  got  me  the  food  I  ate ; 

His  kindness  and  care  I  can  never  forget ; 

Yet  I  cannot  embrace  him,  though  other  folks  can, 

For  I  myself  am  that  excellent  man. 


BE  GRATEFUL. 

Small  service  is  true  service  while  it  lasts ; 

Of  friends,  however  humble,  scorn  not  one ; 
The  daisy,  by  the  shadow  that  it  casts, 

Protects  the  lingering  dew-drop  from  the  sun. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  41 


LESSON  XI. 

An-tip'o-des,  those  people  who,  Pre-pos/ter-ous,  inverted  in  or- 
living  on  the  opposite  side  of        der;  absurd, 

the  globe,  have  their  feet  di-  Pre-sen'ti-ment,  a  foreboding 
rectly  opposite  to  ours.  a  previous  notion  or  idea. 

THE  KETURN  OF  COLUMBUS. 

Don  Gomez.  What  is  this  wild  story  you  have 
heard,  sir?  Columbus  returned?  The  east  dis- 
covered by  sailing  westvvardly  ?    Impossible  ! 

Secretary.  It  is  even  so,  Don  Gomez.  A  courier 
has  just  arrived  at  the  palace  with  the  news.  Co- 
lumbus was  driven  by  stress  of  weather  to  anchor 
in  the  Tagus.  All  Portugal  is  in  a  ferment  of  en- 
thusiasm, and  all  Spain  will  be  equally  excited 
soon.    The  sensation  is  prodigious. 

Don  G.  But  did  I  not  denounce  this  man's 
scheme  at  the  outset  ?  Did  I  not  warn  her  Majesty 
against  him  ?  And  now  you  tell  me  he  has  found 
a  new  world.    Oh,  it  is  all  a  trick  ! 

Sec.  But  he  has  brought  home  the  proofs  of  his 
visit :  gold  and  precious  stones ;  strange  plants  and 
animals;  parrots  like  those  from  remote  parts  of 
Asia;  and  above  all,  specimens  of  a  new  race  of 
men,  copper-colored,  with  straight  hair. 

Don  G.  Still,  I  say,  a  trick  !  He  has  been  coast- 
ing along  the  African  shore,  and  has  there  col- 
lected a  few  curiosities  which  he  is  passing  off  for 
proofs  of  his  pretended  discovery. 

Sec.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  all  his  men  should 
be  leagued  with  him  in  keeping  up  so  unprofitable 
a  falsehood. 

28* 


42       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Don  G.  But  'tis  against  reason,  against  common 
sense,  that  such  a  discovery  should  be  made.  Aa 
one  of  her  Majesty's  council,  I  proved  conclusively 
long  ago  that  Columbus  was  a  mere  pretender. 
Why,  sir,  he  argued  that  the  earth  is  a  globe  and 
capable  of  being  circumnavigated  I 

Sec.  King  John  of  Portugal  has  received  him 
with  great  favor,  has  listened  to  his  accounts,  and 
is  persuaded  that  they  are  true. 

Don  G.  King  John  is —  Well,  sir,  he  is  not  a 
plain,  matter-of-fact  man  like  myself.  I  am  not  to 
be  taken  in  by  any  such  preposterous  story.  This 
vaunted  discovery  will  turn  out  to  be  no  discovery 
at  all.  With  my  compass  and  my  map,  did  I  not 
prove  that  it  was  impossible  ?  But  the  queen  would 
not  be  convinced. 

Sec.  The  king  and  queen  have  ordered  grand 
preparations  for  the  reception  of  Columbus. 

Don  G.  What  delusion !  Her  Majesty  is  so 
credulous !  It  is  hard  to  make  her  listen  to  a 
plain,  matter-of-fact  man  like  me.  ,  Why,  sir,  she 
told  me  the  other  day  that  I  was  an  old  bore. 
Think  of  that,  sir  !    Ia  bore  ! 

Sec.  Is  it  possible,  Don  Gomez,  that  she  made 
such  a  remark?  But  then  you  must  remember 
she  is  a  woman.  She  says  she  pledged  her  jewels 
to  fit  Columbus  out  on  his  voyage,  and  that  she 
lias  had  a  presentiment  from  the  first  that  he 
would  succeed. 

Don  G.  A  presentiment !  How  like  a  woman  ! 
Instead  of  a  reason  she  gives  us  a  presentiment. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  43 


I  am  a  matter-of-fact  man,  sir ;  and  mark  my 
words :  it  will  all  turn  out  a  trick — mere  moon- 
shine. The  crews  of  the  vessels  may  have  been 
deceived  ;  Columbus  may  have  steered  a  southerly 
course  instead  of  a  westerly.  Anything  is  probable 
rather  than  that  a  continent  to  the  west  of  us  has 
been  discovered. 

Sec.  I  saw  the  courier  who  brought  the  news. 
He  told  me  he  had  conversed  with  all  the  sailors, 
and  they  laughed  at  the  notion  that  there  could  be 
any  mistake  about  the  discovery,  or  that  any  other 
than  a  westerly  course  had  been  steered. 

Don  G.  Still,  I  say,  a  trick !  What,  sir !  am  I 
to  believe  that  the  earth  is  a  globe,  and  that  men 
are  standing  with  their  heads  down  in  space,  with 
the  soles  of  their  feet  opposite  to  ours  ? 

Sec.  It  is  rather  hard,  I  admit,  to  believe  that. 
If  it  were  so,  what  would  prevent  the  water  from 
flowing  out  of  all  the  wells  ?  Every  step  I  take  on 
the  flat  earth  disproves  that  notion. 

Don  G.  To  be  sure  !  What,  sir  !  An  ignorant 
sailor  from  Genoa  in  the  right,  and  all  our  men 
of  learning,  not  to  speak  of  her  Majesty's  chief 
councilor,  in  the  wrong !  Nonsense  !  I'm  a  matter- 
of-fact  man,  sir,  and  I  hate  all  innovators.  I  will 
believe  what  I  can  see  and  handle  and  compre- 
hend, but  as  for  believing  in  the  antipodes,  or  that 
Columbus  has  found  a  continent  to  the  west  of 
us —  Ring  the  bell,  sir ;  call  my  carriage ;  I  will 
go  to  the  palace  and  undeceive  the  king.  The 
dignity  of  Spain  must  be  saved.    I  must  save  it. 


44 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XII 


Ban,  to  curse ;  to  interdict. 

Forge  (forj),  a  furnace  in  which 
metals  are  heated  for  hammer- 
ing into  form. 

Per'il,  danger ;  hazard. 


Pu'ny,  petty ;  inferior. 

Shirk,  to  get  off  from ;  to  slink 

away. 
Suc/cor,  help  ;  relief. 
Writhing,  twisting ;  distorting. 


THE  GIANT  AND  THE  DWARF. 
I. 

As  on  through  life's  jouruey  we  go  day  by  day, 
There  are  two  whom  we  meet  at  each  turn  of  the  way, 
To  help  or  to  hinder,  to  bless  or  to  ban, 
And  the  names  of  these  two  are  "  I  Can't "  and  "  I  Can.' 

II. 

"  I  Can't "  is  a  dwarf,  a  poor,  pale,  puny  imp, 
His  eyes  are  half  blind,  and  his  walk  is  a  limp. 
He  stumbles  and  falls,  or  lies  writhing  with  fear, 
Though  dangers  are  distant  and  succor  is  near. 

III. 

"  I  Can  "  is  a  giant :  unbending  he  stands ; 
There  is  strength  in  his  arms  and  skill  in  his  hands  ; 
He  asks  for  no  favors,  he  wants  but  a  share 
Where  labor  is  honest  and  wages  are  fair. 

IV. 

"  I  Can't  "  is  a  sluggard,  too  lazy  to  work, 
From  duty  he  shrinks,  every  task  he  will  shirk  ; 
No  bread  on  his  board,  no  meal  in  his  bag, 
His  house  is  a  ruin,  his  coat  is  a  rag. 

V. 

"  I  Can  "  is  a  worker ;  he  tills  the  broad  fields, 
And  digs  from  the  earth  all  the  wealth  which  it  yields; 
The  hum  of  his  spindle  begins  with  the  light, 
Aod  the  fires  of  his  forges  are  blazing  all  night. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


VI. 

"  I  Can't "  is  a  coward  half  fainting  with  fright ; 
At  the  first  thought  of  peril  he  slinks  out  of  sight ; 
Skulks  and  hides  till  the  noise  of  the  battle  is  past, 
Or  sells  his  best  friends,  and  turns  traitor  at  last. 

VII. 

"  I  Can  "  is  a  hero,  the  first  in  the  field, 
Though  others  may  falter,  he  never  will  yield  ; 
He  makes  the  long  marches,  he  deals  the  last  blow 
His  charge  is  the  whirlwind  that  scatters  the  foe. 


How  grandly  and  nobly  he  stands  to  his  trust, 
When,  roused  at  the  call  of  a  cause  that  is  just, 
He  weds  his  strong  will  to  the  valor  of  youth, 
And  writes  on  his  banner  the  watchword  of  truth ! 

IX. 

Then  up  and  be  doing !  the  day  is  not  long ; 
Throw  fear  to  the  winds,  be  patient  and  strong ! 
Stand  fast  in  your  place,  act  your  part  like  a  man, 
And  when  duty  calls,  answer  promptly,  "I  can !" 


VIETUE  AND  ERROR. 

Many  there  are  who  of  their  lot  complain ; 
Many  there  are  who  rail  at  fate  in  vain  ; 
But  on  himself  weak  man  should  vent  his  rage  : 
Error  in  youth  must  lead  to  gloom  in  age. 

Many  there  are  content  in  humblest  lot ; 
Many  there  are,  though  poor,  who  murmur  not ; 
Write,  then,  in  gold,  on  their  recording  page, 
Virtue  in  youth  must  lead  to  bliss  in  age. 


46        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XIII. 


Dic'tate,  to  tell  what  to  write; 

to  order. 
Dis-as/ter,  calamity ;  mishap. 
Heel,  to  lean  on  one  side. 
Lieu-tenant  (lu-ten'ant,  or  lef- 
ten'ant),  an  officer  next  below 
a  captain  in  rank. 
Liqht/er,  a  large  boat  used  in 
loading  or  unloading  ships. 


NEC/ES-SA-RY(nes-),indispensable 

Port-hole,  a  hole  to  point  can- 
non through. 

Res'cue,  a  deliverance. 

Sheath,  a  case  ;  a  scabbard. 

Shrouds  (heed  the  sound  of  sh), 
large  ropes  which  help  to  sup- 
port the  masts  of  a  ship. 

Vis'it-or,  one  who  visits. 


THE  LOSS  OF  THE  "ROYAL  GEOKGE." 

1.  In  the  month  of  August,  1782,  a  sad  calamity 
took  place  at  Spithead  by  which  many  hundreds 
of  brave  sailors  suddenly  found  a  watery  grave. 
They  belonged  to  the  "  Royal  George,"  a  fine  ship 
which  carried  one  hundred  guns.  She  was  the 
finest  ship  of  the  English  fleet,  and  Admiral 
Kempenfelt's  blue  flag  floated  from  one  of  her 
masts. 

2.  When  nearly  ready  to  go  to  sea,  it  was  found  by 
the  first  lieutenant  that  the  water-pipe  was  out  of 
order.  It  was  not  thought  necessary  to  put  the 
vessel  into  dock  in  order  to  repair  her,  but  only  to 
"  heel  "  her  over — that  is,  weigh  her  down  on  one 
side  till  the  damaged  part  was  above  water  and 
the  workmen  could  do  what  was  required. 

3.  A  number  of  men  were  sent  from  one  of  the 
dockyards  to  help  the  carpenters  in  their  work. 
The  great  guns  on  one  side  were  run  out  as  far  as 
possible,  and  those  on  the  other  side  were  brought 
into  the  middle  of  the  ship.    This  made  her  leau 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  47 


over  as  much  as  was  needful,  and  so  the  workmen 
got  at  the  mouth  of  the  water-pipe  which  wanted 
mending. 

4.  Just  then  a  lighter  came  alongside  the  "  Royal 
George "  laden  with  casks  of  rum  ;  and  a  large 
number  of  men  were  told  to  take  them  on  board. 
The  port-holes  were  almost  level  with  the  water 
before  the  arrival  of  the  lighter,  and,  when  the 
men  went  to  take  in  the  casks,  the  ship  "  heeled  " 
over  still  more,  and  the  water  began  to  wash  into 
the  lower-deck  ports. 

5.  The  carpenter  saw  the  peril  that  both  ship 
and  crew  were  in,  and  ran  to  the  second  lieutenant, 
who  was  on  duty,  and  told  him  of  it.  The  lieu- 
tenant was  angry  that  the  carpenter  should  "  pre- 
sume to  dictate  to  him,"  and  ordered  him  back  to 
his  work.  A  breeze  began  to  rise,  and,  seeing  the 
danger  increase,  the  man  went  a  second  time  to  the 
officer,  and  warned  him  that  all  would  be  lost  if  the 
ship  was  not  righted  instantly,  but  he  only  received 
oaths  for  his  pains. 

6.  The  lieutenant,  however,  at  length  ordered 
the  drummer  to  summon  the  men,  in  order  to  put 
the  guns  in  their  usual  places,  but  it  was  too  late. 
Before  the  drum  could  be  beaten  the  water  was 
rushing  in  fast  at  the  open  port-holes,  and,  almost 
before  help  or  rescue  could  be  as  much  as  thought 
of,  the  brave  ship  sank,  carrying  down  with  her 
the  admiral,  officers,  men,  and  visitors  on  board  to 
the  number  of  many  hundred  souls. 

7.  So  sudden  was  the  disaster  that  only  a  few 


48 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


who  happened  to  be  on  the  upper  deck  could  save 
themselves.  Admiral  Kempenfelt  was  in  his  cabin 
writing  when  he  and  all  his  crew  thus  perished  on 
a  fair  day,  in  sight  of  land,  and  surrounded  by  a 
fleet  of  ships.  This  remarkable  event  has  been 
described  by  Cowper  in  the  following  little  poem  : 

I. 

Toll  for  the  brave — the  brave  that  are  no  more ! 

All  sunk  beneath  the  wave,  fast  by  their  native  shore ! 

Eight  hundred  of  the  brave,  whose  courage  well  was  tried, 

Had  made  the  vessel  heel,  and  laid  her  on  her  side. 

A  land-breeze  shook  the  shrouds,  and  she  was  overset ; 

Down  went  the  Royal  George  with  all  her  crew  complete ! 

II. 

Toll  for  the  brave !    Brave  Kempenfelt  is  gone ; 
His  last  sea-fight  is  fought — his  work  of  glory  done. 
It  was  not  in  the  battle  ;  no  tempest  gave  the  shock ; 
She  sprang  no  fatal  leak ;  she  ran  upon  no  rock. 
His  sword  was  in  its  sheath,  his  fingers  held  the  pen, 
When  Kempenfelt  went  down  with  twice  four  hundred  men. 

III. 

Weigh  the  vessel  up  once  dreaded  by  our  foes, 
And  mingle  with  our  cup  the  tear  that  England  owes. 
Her  timbers  yet  are  sound,  and  she  may  float  again, 
Full  charged  with  England's  thunder,  and  plow  the  distant 
main. 

But  Kempenfelt  is  gone  ;  his  victories  are  o'er, 

And  he  and  his  eight  hundred  shall  plow  the  wave  no  more. 

Questions,  etc. — Describe  the  accident  to  the  Royal  George. 
"What  was  the  date  of  the  disaster?  Who  was  most  to  blame  for 
it  ?  What  English  poet  wrote  some  \  erses  in  commemoration  of 
the  event?  Who  was  Cowper?  (An  eminent  English  poet,  born 
1731,  died  1800.) 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  49 


LESSON  XIV. 


A-poi/ogy,  an  expression  of  re- 
gret for  an  offense  ;  an  excuse. 
Cas/tle  (kiis/sl),  a  fortified  house. 

CON-SID'ER-ATE,  thoughtful. 

Earl  (erl),  a  title  of  English,  no- 
bility. 
En-sued7,  followed. 
Gov'erx-ess,  a  female  tutor. 


Im  pres'siost,  a  mark  made  by 
pressure;  influence;  effect. 

In'ter-vtew,  a  formal  meeting. 

Pas'sen-ger,  one  that  travels. 

Pre-tensi/  or  Presence,  a  false 
show  or  reason. 

Re'al-ly,  in  truth ;  truly. 

Scen'er-y,  objects  of  a  scene. 


THE  OUTSIDE  PASSENGER. 

1.  Soxte  years  ago,  in  England,  on  a  fine  day 
in  August,  a  young  lady  took  a  seat  in  a  stage- 
coach. For  many  miles  she  rode  alone ;  but  there 
was  enough  to  amuse  her  in  the  scenerv  through 
which  she  passed,  and  in  the  pleasing  hopes  that 
filled  her  mind. 

29 


50       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


2.  She  had  been  engaged  as  governess  for  the 
grandchildren  of  an  earl,  and  was  now  on  her  way 
to  his  castle.  At  midday  the  coach  stopped  at  an 
inn,  and  she  alighted,  and  sat  down  at  the  table. 
An  elderly  man  followed,  and  sat  down  also. 

3.  The  young  lady  arose,  rang  the  bell,  and 
addressing  the  waiter,  said,  "Here  is  an  outside 
passenger ;  I  can  not  dine  with  an  outside  passen- 
ger." The  stranger  bowed,  saying,  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,  madam ;  I  can  go  into  another  room,"  and 
immediately  retired.  The  coach  soon  afterward 
resumed  its  course,  and  the  passengers  their  places. 

4.  At  length  the  coach  stopped  at  the  gate  lead- 
ing to  the  castle  to  which  the  young  lady  was 
going ;  but  there  was  not  such  prompt  attention  as 
she  expected,  for  all  eyes  seemed  directed  to  the 
outside  passenger,  who  was  preparing  to  dismount. 
The  young  lady  beckoned,  and  was  answered,  "  As 
soon  as  we  have  attended  to  his  lordship,  we  will 
come  to  you." 

5.  A  few  words  of  explanation  ensued.  To  her 
dismay,  the  young  lady  found  that  the  outside  pas- 
senger, with  whom  she  had  thought  it  beneath  her 
to  dine,  was  not  only  a  nobleman,  but  that  very 
nobleman  in  whose  family  she  hoped  to  be  an  in- 
mate. What  could  she  do  ?  How  could  she  bear 
the  interview?  She  felt  really  ill  when  she  thought 
of  her  rudeness ;  and  the  apology  she  sent  that 
evening  for  not  appearing  in  the  presence  of  the 
family  was  sincere. 

6.  The  venerable  peer  was  a  kind  and  consicU 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOUBTH  READER. 


51 


erate  man.  He  sent  for  the  foolish  girl,  and  reas- 
oned with  her  on  her  conduct  at  the  inn.  He 
insisted  on  the  impropriety  of  the  state  of  mind 
which  it  showed,  and  told  her  that  nothing  could 
induce  him  to  allow  his  children  to  be  taught 
such  notions. 

7.  He  refused  to  accept  any  apology  that  did 
not  go  to  the  length  of  acknowledging  that  her 
conduct  was  wrong ;  and,  when  the  right  impres- 
sion seemed  to  be  produced,  he  gave  her  his  hand 
in  friendship. 


OVER  THE  FENCE. 

BOY. 

Over  the  fence  is  a  garden  fair — 
How  I  would  love  to  be  master  there ! 
All  that  I  lack  is  a  mere  pretense — 
Then  I  could  leap  that  low  white  fence. 

CONSCIENCE. 

This  is  the  way  all  crimes  commence: 
Sin  and  sorrow  are  over  the  fence. 

BOY. 

Over  the  fence  I  can  toss  my  ball, 
Then  I  can  go  for  it — that  is  all ; 
Picking  an  apple  beneath  a  tree 
Would  not  be  really  theft,  you  see. 

CONSCIENCE. 

That  is  a  falsehood — a  weak  pretense ; 
Sin  and  sorrow  are  over  the  fence. 


52       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


BOY. 

Whose  is  the  whisper  so  low  and  plain? 
Twice  have  I  heard  it,  and  not  in  vain ; 
I  will  not  venture  a  look  that  way, — 
From  honor  and  right  I  will  not  stray. 

CONSCIENCE. 

Remember,  remember,  all  crimes  commence 
With  coveting  that  which  is  over  the  fence. 


LESSON  XV. 


Answered  (an'serd),  replied  to. 

At-tain',  to  come  to ;  to  gain. 

Build'ing,  a  fabric  ;  an  edifice. 

Conscience,  the  faculty  of  know- 
ing right  from  wrong. 

Es-sen'tial  (-shal),  necessary. 

Ex-am/ine  (egz-am'in),  to  search 
into. 

Fi-dei/i-ty,  adherence  to  truth. 
Ma-chin'er-y  (ma-sheen/er-y), 
the  works  of  a  machine. 


Mo-ni'tions  (-nish'uns),  warn- 
ings. 

Patient  (pa'shent),  enduring. 

Prussian  (prush'an),  belonging 
to  Prussia. 

Rote,  mere  repetition. 

Spin'dle,  a  pin  to  form  thread  on. 

Su-pe-ri-or'i-ty,  the  state  of  be- 
ing superior. 

Val/u-a-ble,  having  worth. 

Weav'er,  one  who  weaves. 


IMPORTANCE  OF  THOUGHT. 

1.  I  once  asked  a  number  of  children  the  common 
question,  Which  is  the  heavier,  a  pound  of  feathers 
or  a  pound  of  lead  ?  Some  answered  at  once,  "  A 
pound  of  lead,  to  be  sure,"  but  others  thought,  and 
then  said,  "  They  are  both  alike ;  a  pound  is  a 
pound." 

2.  I  have  known  some  children,  who,  when 
learning  the  multiplication  table,  were  not  satisfied 
with  learning  it  merely  by  rote,  but  would  examin* 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  53 


and  count  out  each  sum  till  they  had  found  out 
for  themselves  that  it  was  all  true.  These  children 
had  the  reward  of  patient  thought. 

3.  All  have  heard  the  saying,  "There  is  no 
royal  road  to  learning."  This  means,  simply,  that 
no  one  can  think  for  another ;  each  one  must  think 
patiently  for  himself.  We  would  like  much  to  see 
things  at  a  glance  without  any  trouble.  Some  see 
quicker  than  others,  but  all  who  would  attain  to 
any  real  superiority  must  think  patiently  for  them- 
selves. 

4.  Have  you  ever  been  in  a  cotton  factory  ?  If 
so,  you  saw  there  hundreds  of  spindles,  whirling 
and  spinning  the  cotton  fine  and  even,  and  faster 
than  you  could  think.  You  saw  the  looms  of  the 
weavers,  each  with  its  swift  shuttle  flying  back- 
ward and  forward,  just  as  if  it  knew  of  itself  what 
it  was  about,  and  the  weaver  had  only  to  watch 
and  wait  upon  it ;  and,  perhaps,  you  saw  the  huge 
wheel  turning  round  and  round  so  gracefully,  so 
majestically,  and  keeping  everything  moving  in 
the  whole  building  like  a  great  living  heart  of  the 
whole. 

5.  What  has  done  all  this  ?  What  has  invented 
and  contrived  all  this  wonderful  machinery  ?  The 
patient  thought  of  a  few  minds.  It  was  not  at  the 
first  glance  that  they  saw  all  these  miracles  which 
they  have  produced,  but  they  thought  it  all  out 
patiently  and  laboriously,  till  they  found  the  way 
to  do  these  things. 

6.  What  was  it  but  patient  thought  that  taught 

29* 


64 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Columbus  that  there  must  be  a  western  continent? 
What  but  patient  thought  taught  Fulton  how  he 
might  give  to  mankind  the  steamboat  ?  It  was  pa- 
tient thought  that  enabled  Washington  to  conduct 
the  great  affairs  of  war  and  peace,  with  which 
he  was  intrusted,  to  a  successful  issue.  It  was  by 
patient  thought  that  Napoleon  saw  how  he  might 
conquer  his  enemies  in  the  field  and  place  France 
at  the  head  of  the  nations ;  and  it  was  by  patient 
thought  that  the  great  Prussian  general  planned 
the  conquest  of  France. 

7.  Nothing  truly  great  or  valuable  has  been,  or 
ever  will  be,  accomplished  without  patient  thought. 
By  thought  alone  can  we  make  ourselves  wiser  and 
better,  for  we  are  made  thinking  beings,  and  the 
more  we  occupy  the  mind  with  good  thoughts,  the 
truer,  the  nobler  and  the  happier  we  are. 

8.  Patient  thought  is  essential  to  the  study  of 
the  will  and  purposes  of  the  Creator,  and  of  our 
duties  and  relations  to  him  and  to  each  other. 
Thought  tells  us  that  the  monitions  of  a  pure  con- 
science are  the  accents  of  his  voice  ever  speaking 
to  us,  and  that  there  is  no  true  peace  for  us  except 
in  fidelity  to  our  sense  of  right  and  in  obedience  to 
the  will  of  God. 

9.  I  once  knew  a  little  girl  who,  after  a  quarrel 
in  which  she  had  said  some  unkind  thing  to  her 
sister,  went  and  sat  down  on  the  step  of  the  door 
to  enjoy  the  beautiful  moonlight  evening.  She 
looked  up  a  long  while  at  the  silent  stars  and  at 
the  quiet,  gentle  moon,  and  the  longer  and  further 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER  55 


she  looked  into  the  depths  of  the  heavens,  the 
more  she  thought  of  the  love  and  the  power  of 
Him  who  made  all  things. 

10.  At  last  she  said  to  herself,  "  He  who  made 
this  glorious  and  beautiful  world  must  wish  all  to 
be  good,  all  to  be  happy,  and  I  have  been  destroy- 
ing the  peace  and  harmony  of  his  world ;  but  for 
me  all  would  be  good  and  beautiful !"  She  ran  in 
to  her  sister,  and  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  said, 
"  I  am  sorry  for  my  unkindness  to  you ;  forgive  me, 
and  come  and  enjoy  with  me  the  beautiful  moon 
and  stars  that  God  has  made  for  us  all  to  enjoy." 

11.  Thus  will  thought,  patient  thought,  teach  us 
that  love  is  not  only  right,  but  more  happy  than 
hatred,  truth  more  noble,  more  desirable  than 
falsehood,  and  that  no  suffering  which  right-doing 
can  bring  upon  us  is  equal  to  the  torment  of  a  bad 
conscience. 


LESSON  XVI. 


Ant  (ant),  a  well-known  insect. 
Boun'te-ous,  free  in  giving. 
Cox-veyed',  transmitted ;  bore. 


Journeyed,  traveled. 
Lan 'tern,  a  case  for  a  light. 
Lusher  or  LlVtre,  brightness. 


THE  ANT  AND  THE  GLOW-WORM. 

A  FABLE. 
I. 

When  night  had  spread  its  darkest  shade, 
And  even  the  stars  no  light  conveyed, 
A  little  ant  of  humble  gait 
Was  plodding  homeward  somewhat  late. 


66       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


II. 

Rejoiced  was  she  to  keep  in  sight 
A  splendid  glow-worm's  useful  light, 
Which,  like  a  lantern  clear,  bestowed 
Its  help  along  her  dangerous  road. 

III. 

On  as  she  went  with  footstep  firm, 
She  thus  addressed  the  glittering  worm: 
"A  blessing,  neighbor,  on  your  light! 
I  thank  you  for  it.    So,  good-night!" 

IV. 

"What!"  said  the  vain  though  gifted  thing; 
"  Do  you  employ  the  light  I  bring  ? 
If  so,  I'll  keep  it  out  of  view; 
I  do  not  shine  for  such  as  you." 
Its  light  it  proudly  then  withdrew. 

V. 

A  traveler,  as  he  journeyed  by, 

Had  seen  with  pleased  and  curious  eye 

The  beauteous  luster,  now  put  out; 

But,  left  in  darkness  and  in  doubt, 

Unconsciously  he  stepped  aside, 

And  crushed  the  glow-worm  in  its  pride, 

VI. 

God,  in  his  wise  and  bounteous  love, 
Has  given  us  talents  to  improve ; 
And  those  who  hide  the  precious  store 
May  do  much  harm,  but  suffer  more. 


Questions,  etc. — Tell  in  your  own  words  the  fable  of  the  ant 
and  the  glow-worm.  What  is  the  moral  ?  If  you  do  not  impart 
all  the  light  you  have,  who  may  suffer  besides  those  you  would  de- 
prive? What  do  you  understand  by  a  fable  f  (A  fictitious  story 
with  a  moral.) 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


57 


LESSON  XVII. 


Bai/co-nt,  a  platform  on  the  out- 
side of  a  house. 

Counsel,  to  advise. 

Craft7  Y,  cunning;  artful. 

Crev'ice,  a  cleft ;  a  rent. 

Cuk  'tain  (-tin),  a  cloth  hanging 
at  a  window,  etc. 

De-tached7,  separated. 

Eaves,  the  edges  of  the  roof  of  a 
house. 


Fa-mii/iar,  easy;  intimate. 
In-ge-nu'i-ty,  invention ;  skill. 
Join'er,  one  who  does  the  wood- 
work in  finishing  buildings,  etc. 
Ma'son,  a  builder  in  stone  or  brick. 
Ob'sti-nate,  stubborn ;  perverse. 
Pre-cau'tion,  previous  care. 
Kec/om-pensed,  rewarded. 
Sen'ti-nel,  a  soldier  on  guard. 
Un-ti'dy,  not  neat. 


THE  HOUSE  SPARROW. 

1.  No  sooner  is  the 
common  house  spar- 
row occupied  in  mak- 
ing his  nest  than  a 
new  sentiment  mani- 
fests itself  in  him — 
the  love  of  offspring. 
He  must  think  of 
providing  a  shelter  jn 
for  his  little  ones.  I3P"  Jf  ^  Mj^S^ 
This   occupation  at 

first   makes   him   a  MB-fBlfe 

little  serious,  but  no  i/V1 

sooner  has  he  picked  J^- 

up  the  first  blade  of  ^fl^^^^^^-" 

straw  than  he  is  filled  ^  ^    ^  ^ 

The  bird  detaching  a  piece  of  the  mortar 

with  joy. 

2.  He  returns  a  hundred  times  a  day,  carrying 
building  material  in  his  beak ;  he  chirps  as  if  he 


58       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


were  pleased  with  himself,  flies  back  again,  return? 
to  the  meadows,  goes,  comes,  and  so  on,  all  day 
long,  looking,  without  appearing  to  do  so,  to  see  if 
any  one  is  at  the  window,  or  if  there  are  enemies 
behind  the  curtain.  The  sparrow  is  better  able  to 
see  you  than  you  are  to  conceal  yourself. 

3.  He  is  an  impudent,  familiar  and  obstinate 
little  bird.  A  sparrow  was  once  so  untidy  as  to 
soil  my  sleeve  with  a  piece  of  mortar  he  had  de- 
tached from  the  eaves  of  my  house.  I  immedi- 
ately sent  for  a  joiner,  telling  him  to  cover  every 
hole  with  boards,  and  employ  all  his  ingenuity  to 
prevent  the  smallest  sparrow  from  penetrating  any 
of  the  crevices  to  build  his  nest.  The  joiner 
worked  all  day  to  do  this  ;  but,  three  days  after, 
the  birds,  by  exploring  the  roof,  by  examining 
and  watching,  and  by  striking  the  planks  with 
their  beaks,  had  defeated  the  skill  and  precaution 
of  the  joiner. 

4.  Then  I  sent  for  a  mason,  and  begged  him  to 
stop  up  the  smallest  holes  with  plaster.  I  after- 
ward watched  attentively  myself,  determined  not 
to  be  played  with  again  by  these  rogues  of  sj>ar- 
rows.  I  was  soon  convinced  that  it  was  impossible 
to  baffle  their  skill  when  they  are  resolved  on  nest- 
building. 

5.  Two  sparrows,  more  clear-sighted  than  the 
rest,  in  spite  of  all  the  precautions  I  had  taken, 
and  notwithstanding  my  constant  presence  at  the 
window,  were  able  to  find  a  place  for  nests.  They 
succeeded  so  well  in  penetrating  the  boards  that 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  59 


my  own  contrivance  had  enabled  them  to  construct 
a  snug  dwelling,  well  sheltered  from  the  weather, 
and  far  out  of  my  reach. 

6.  I  was,  however,  recompensed  for  my  forbear- 
ance by  being  witness  of  a  very  touching  scene. 
When  the  little  ones  were  able  to  come  out  of  the 
nest,  one  of  them,  being  perched  up  so  high, 
tumbled  on  to  the  balcony  and  hurt  itself  so  that 
it  could  not  fly. 

7.  Then  all  the  sparrows  from  the  neighboring 
trees  and  hedges,  from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest, 
came  on  the  balcony,  bringing  to  the  poor  little 
fellow,  in  their  bills,  the  tenderest  consolation. 
The  young  ones  came  while  I  was  present ;  the  old 
ones,  more  experienced  and  crafty,  knew  perfectly 
at  what  time  in  the  day  I  was  absent,  and  did  not 
fail  to  come  and  counsel  the  poor  disabled  bird. 

8.  This  lasted  three  days  and  nights,  during 
which  my  sparrow  retired  to  a  chair  in  the  corner 
of  the  balcony,  and  slept  peaceably,  having  at  his 
side  two  other  large  jolly  fellows,  to  serve  as  senti- 
nels. On  the  fourth  day  the  little  wounded  one 
departed,  joyous  as  a  boy  returning  from  school. 


A  WINTER  EVENING  AT  HOME. 

Now  stir  the  fire  and  close  the  shutters  fast, 
Let  fall  the  curtain,  wheel  the  sofa  round ; 
And  while  the  bubbling  and  loud-hissing  urn 
Sends  up  a  steamy  column,  and  the  cups 
Which  cheer,  but  not  inebriate,  wait  on  each, 
So  let  us  welcome  cheerful  evening  in. — Cowper. 


60       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 

LESSON  XVIII. 

Quae, 'ry,  the  object  of  the  chase ;  I     pit  where  stones  are  cat  from 
the  game  of  a  bird  of  prey ;  a  I     the  earth. 

HYMN  OF  THE  MOUNTAINEERS. 
First  Voice. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  thee,  our  God,  our 
fathers'  God ! 

Thou  hast  made  thy  children  mighty  by  the  touch  of  the 
mountain  sod. 

Thou  hast  fixed  our  ark  of  refuge  where  the  spoiler's  foot 
ne'er  trod ; — 

All. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  thee,  our  God,  our 
fathers'  God ! 

Second  Voice. 

We  are  watchers  of  a  beacon  whose  light  must  never  die ; 
We  are  guardians  of  an  altar  mid  the  silence  of  the  sky ; 
The  rocks  yield  founts  of  courage,  struck  forth  as  by  thy 
rod ; — 

All. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  thee,  our  God,  our 
fathers'  God ! 

Third  Voice. 

For  the  dark  resounding  caverns,  where  thy  still,  small  voice 
is  heard ; 

For  the  strong  pines  of  the  forest  that  by  thy  breath  are 
stirred ; 

For  the  storms  on  whose  free  pinions  thy  spirit  walks 
abroad ; — 

All. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  thee,  our  God,  our 
fathers'  God ! 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  61 


Fourth  Voice. 
The  royal  eagle  darteth  on  his  quarry  from  the  heights, 
And  the  stag  that  knows  no  master  seeks  there  his  wild 
delights ; 

But  we,  for  thy  communion,  have  sought  the  mountain  sod ; — 

An. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  thee,  our  God,  our 
fathers'  God ! 

Fifth  Voice. 

The  banner  of  the  chieftain  far,  far  below  us  waves ; 

The  war-horse  of  the  spearman  cannot  reach  our  lofty  caves ; 

Thy  dark  clouds  wrap  the  threshold  of  Freedom's  last  abode ; — 

All. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  thee,  our  God,  our 
fathers'  God ! 

Sixth  Voice. 

For  the  shadow  of  thy  presence,  round  our  camp  of  rock 
outspread ; 

For  the  stern  denies  of  battle,  bearing  record  of  our  dead ; 
For  the  snows  and  for  the  torrents,  for  the  free  heart's  burial 
sod ; — 

AIL 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills,  we  bless  thee,  our  God,  our 
fathers'  God !   

LESSON  XIX. 


Fray,  a  battle ;  a  fight ;  a  riot. 
Host,  any  great  multitude. 
Slaughter,  butchery  ;  carnage. 


Tro'phy,   something    taken  in 
battle. 

War'rior  (war'yur),  a  soldier. 


THE  BRAVE. 

Who  are  the  brave  ?  the  warriors  bold 
That  slaughter  their  fellow-man  for  gold  ? 
That  risk  their  lives  in  the  battle  fray  ? 
Daring  they  are — not  brave  alway ! 
30 


62        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


The  truly  brave  are  the  suffering  host 
That  never  of  wealth  had  chance  to  boast, 
Yet  never  have  fallen  or  turned  aside 
From  the  path  of  truth,  or  of  honest  pride, — 
But  who  spurn  the  tempter,  come  what  may, 
That  their  lives  may  ]?e  pure  as  the  open  day  ; 
Who  ask  not  a  trophy  to  deck  their  grave : 
The  honest  and  poor  are  the  truly  brave ! 


LESSON  XX. 


E-lk/it  (e-lis'it),  to  draw  out. 
Ex-clu'sive-ly,  without  admit- 
ting another. 
Hov'er-ing  (hftv'-),  hanging  over. 
I-de/a,  thought ;  notion. 


In'di-cate,  to  point  out ;  to  show. 
Opaque7  (o-pake'),  not  transpa- 
rent. 

Problem,  a  question  for  solution. 
Sug-ges'tion,  hint ;  intimation. 


OBJECT  TEACHING. 

1.  The  children  having  clapped  hands  and  sung 
together,  sang  their  way  out  of  the  great  room  in 
file,  while  others  began  streaming  in.  We  were 
invited  to  an  object  lesson,  and  marched  off  to  a 
class-room,  where  we  took  our  seats  among  the 
pupils,  whose  age  varied  between  eight  years  and 
eleven.  The  teacher  was  before  us.  We  were  all 
attention.  "  Hands  down."  We  did  it.  "  Hands 
on  knees."    Very  good.    The  lesson  began. 

2.  "  I  have  something  in  my  pocket,"  said  our 
teacher,  "  which  I  am  always  glad  to  have  there." 
We  were  old  enough  and  worldly  enough  to  know 
what  he  meant,  but  boys  aspire  to  fill  their  pockets 
with  so  many  things  that,  according  to  their  minds, 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  63 


the  something  in  the  teacher's  pocket  might  be 
string,  apple,  knife,  brass  button,  top,  candy,  wood 
for  boat,  crumbs,  squirt,  gunpowder,  marbles,  slate 
pencil,  pea-shooter,  brad-awl,  or  perhaps  small 
cannon. 

3.  They  attempted  no  rash  guess,  therefore,  at 
that  stage  of  the  problem.  "  Boys  also,"  our 
teacher  continued,  "  like  to  have  it,  though  when 
it  gets  into  a  boy's  j)ocket,  I  believe  that  it  is  often 
said  to  burn  a  hole  there."  Instantly  twenty  out- 
stretched hands  indicated  an  idea  demanding  ut- 
terance in  twenty  heads.  "  If  you  please,  sir,  I 
know  what  it  is."  "  What  is  it  ?"  "  A  piece  of 
coal." 

4.  "  You  draw  your  reasoning,  my  boy,  from  a 
part  only  of  the  information  given  to  you,  found- 
ing your  view  of  things  on  the  last  words  that 
sounded  in  your  ears.  We  laughed  at  you  cheer- 
fully, but  when  we  see  the  same  thing  done  in  the 
world  daily  by  your  elders,  we  do  not  always  find 
it  a  laughing  matter. 

*  5.  "  This  little  thing  in  my  pocket,"  the  teacher 
continued,  "has  not  much  power  by  itself,  but 
when  many  of  the  same  kind  come  together  they 
can  do  great  deeds.  A  number  of  them  have 
assembled  lately  to  build  handsome  monuments  to 
a  great  man  whose  name  you  all  ought  to  know, 
for  he  made  the  penny  loaf  bigger  than  it  used  to 
be.    Do  you  know  what  great  man  that  was  ?" 

6.  Hands  were  out,  answers  were  ready,  but  they 
ran  pretty  exclusively  in  favor  of  Prince  Albert 


64       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


and  the  Duke  of  Wellington.*  "  I  am  sure,"  says 
the  teacher,  "  you  must  have  heard  who  made  all 
the  loaves  larger  without  altering  the  price.  Think 
again  :  who  was  it  ?"  A  confident  voice  hazarded 
the  suggestion  that  it  was  "  Guy  Fawkes,"  and 
half  a  dozen  voices  cried,  "  Guy  Fawkes !"  There 
are  always  some  to  follow  the  absurdest  lead,  if  it 
be  taken  confidently,  in  the  great  as  in  the  little 
world. 

7.  "  Guy  Fawkes  !  nonsense  !  Is  he  to  be  car- 
ried about  in  your  heads  all  through  November 
and  December  ?"  More  inquiry  at  length  elicited, 
after  a  little  uncertain  hovering  about  Louis  Na- 
poleon, the  decisive  opinion  that  the  man  who 
made  bread  cheaper  was  Sir  Robert  Peel.  "  If 
you  please,  sir/'  said  an  argumentative  little  fellow, 
"  he  did  not  make  the  penny  loaf  bigger." 

8.  "  Why  not?"  "He  did  not  make  the  loaf: 
he  made  the  baker  make  it."  The  difficulty  thus 
started  having  been  properly  gone  into,  and  further 
statement  of  the  riddle  having  been  given,  it  was 
at  length  fairly  guessed  that  the  teacher's  object 
upon  which  he  meant  to  talk  with  us  that  day  was 
a  penny. 

*  Prince  Albert,  the  consort  or  husband  of  Queen  Victoria  of  Eng- 
land, died  1861.  The  Duke  of  Wellington,  one  of  England's  greatest 
generals,  died  1852.  Guy  Fawkes,  one  of  the  originators  of  a  plot  for 
blowing  up  the  House  of  Lords  in  London  with  gunpowder,  was  exe- 
cuted in  the  year  1606.  Sir  Robert  Peel,  a  great  English  statesman, 
died  by  a  fall  from  his  horse  in  1850.  Charles  Dickens,  the  author  of 
this  amusing  sketch  of  "Object  Teaching,"  was  born  in  Portsmouth, 
England,  1812,  and  died  1870.  As  a  novelist  and  humorist  he  rank? 
among  the  foremost  in  English  literature. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  65 


9.  We  ascertained  that  it  was  round,  that  it  was 
hard,  that  it  was  brown,  that  it  was  heavy — by 
which  we  meant,  as  some  of  us  explained,  that  it 
was  heavier  than  the  same  quantity  of  water — that 
it  was  stamped  on  both  sides,  and  so  forth ;  also  that 
it  was  made  of  copper.  Pence  being  next  regarded 
purely  in  the  light  of  copper,  the  name  of  the 
metal,  "  copper,"  was  written  at  the  top  of  a  black- 
board, and  a  line  was  drawn,  along  which  we  were 
to  place  a  regiment  of  qualities. 

10.  We  began  easily  by  asserting  copper  to  be 
hard,  and  showed  our  penetration  by  discovering 
that,  since  a  penny  would  not  do  for  framing  as  a 
spy-glass,  it  must  be  opaque.  Can  you  spell 
opaque  f  Oh  dear,  yes  !  Twenty  hands  were  out, 
but  we  were  not  all  so  wise  as  we  imagined.  No 
matter ;  there  are  folks  of  larger  size  elsewhere 
who  undertake  what  they  are  not  able  to  do. 
O-p-a-k-e  ought  to  be  right,  but,  like  not  a  few 
things  of  which  we  could  argue  that  they  must  be 
right,  it  happened  to  be  wrong,  so  what  was  the 
use  of  talking  ? 

11.  We  heard  a  little  boy  in  the  corner  whisper- 
ing the  truth,  but  afraid  as  yet  to  utter  it  too 
boldly.  It  was  not  the  only  truth  that  has  appeared 
first  in  a  whisper.  Yet  as  truth  is  great  and  shall 
prevail,  it  was  but  fit  that  we  all  finally  determined 
upon  o-p-a-q-u-e,  and  so  we  did,  and  we  all  uttered 
those  letters  from  all  corners  of  the  room  with  the 
more  perfect  confidence  as  they  grew,  by  each  repeti- 
tion, more  familiar  to  our  minds. 

30  * 


66         THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XXI. 


Bade  (bid),  the  past  tense  of  bid. 

Burg'lar,  one  who  breaks  into  a 
dwelling-house  at  night  to  rob 
or  harm. 

Con ''tents  or  Con-tents',  that 
which  is  contained. 

De-pos'it  (-poz7-),  that  which  is 
intrusted  to  another's  care. 

De-sign'  (de-sin'or  de-zin'^an  in- 
tention ;  a  scheme ;  a  sketch. 

Des-sert7  (dez-zert7),  a  service  of 
fruit  after  meat. 


Hard7en-ing  (hard'n-ing),  mak- 
ing or  becoming  more  hard. 

Knav'er-y  (nav7er-y),  fraud. 

La7bel,  a  small  slip  of  writing 
affixed  to  a  thing. 

O-bliged7,  constrained. 

Par'don  (par7dn),  forgiveness. 

Poi/i-cy,  course  of  action  ;  art. 

Pro-pos7al  (pro-poz'al^a  scheme. 

KE-CEiPT/(re-seet/),  a  written  ac- 
knowledgment of  money  or  goods 
received. 


This  exercise  should  be  read  in  those  easy  colloquial  tones  which  we 
naturally  employ  in  common  conversation.  A  formal,  declamatory  tone 
would  be  wholly  out  of  place. 


THE  BREACH  OF  TRUST. 


1.  In  the  city  of  New  York  there  lived,  not 
many  years  ago,  two  neighbors,  one  of  whom  was 
named  Frankheart,  and  the  other  Wily.  Frank- 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  67 


heart  was  too  ready  to  trust  every  man  he  met , 
but  Wily  loved  money  so  well  that  he  quite  for- 
got that  honesty  is  the  best  policy.  One  day 
Fraukheart  came  into  Wily's  house,  and  said : 
"  Neighbor  Wily,  I  am  about  to  make  a  journey 
to  Ohio  to  see  my  uncle,  who  is  very  ill.  I  have 
five  hundred  dollars  in  gold  which  I  want  to  leave 
behind.    What  shall  I  do  with  it  ?" 

2.  Wily's  eyes  brightened,  and  he  replied :  "  I 
have  a  good  strong  iron  safe  where  I  keep  my 
money  and  notes.  Fire  cannot  harm  it,  and  burg- 
lars cannot  open  it.  I  put  the  key  in  a  place 
known  only  to  my  wife  and  myself.  I  think  you 
cannot  do  better  than  keep  your  gold  in  my  safe." 
Perhaps  Wily  had  no  thought  of  fraud  in  his  heart 
at  the  moment ;  for  he  called  his  wife,  and  said : 
"  Wife,  our  neighbor  is  going  to  Ohio,  and  wants 
to  know  what  he  shall  do  with  his  gold.  I  tell 
him  he  may  put  it  in  our  iron  safe." 

3.  "  He  is  quite  welcome  to  do  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Wily,  who,  in  her  love  of  money,  was  not  far  be- 
hind her  husband.  "  I  do  not  see  why  his  gold 
would  not  be  as  safe  there  as  in  the  bank.  How 
long  shall  you  be  gone,  Neighbor  Frankheart?" 
"  Only  a  few  weeks,  I  think,"  said  Frankheart. 
"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  offer  to  take 
care  of  the  gold.  Here  it  is" — and  producing  a 
bag  he  emptied  the  contents  on  the  table — "  five 
hundred  dollars  in  twenty-five  pieces  of  twenty 
dollars  each." 

4.  He  counted  the  money  before  their  eyes,  put 


68        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


it  back  in  the  bag,  tied  the  mouth  of  it,  and  called 
their  attention  to  the  written  label  on  it,  bearing 
his  name,  and  showing  the  amount.  Then  he 
gave  the  bag  to  Wily,  and  bade  him  and  his  wife 
good-by.  "  What  a  careless  man  !"  said  the  wife ; 
"  he  has  gone  off  without  taking  our  receipt  for 
the  money."  "Of  course  he  trusts  to  our  honor," 
replied  the  husband ;  "  we  shall  not  forget  it." 
Wily  had  not  begun  to  feel  the  force  of  temp- 
tation. 

5.  It  was  nearly  a  year  before  Frankheart  re- 
turned home  to  New  York.  From  Ohio  he  had 
gone  to  Mexico,  and  from  Mexico  to  England. 
The  day  after  his  return  he  called  on  his  neigh- 
bors, the  Wilys,  and  said  he  would  trouble  them 
for  that  little  bag  of  gold.  Wily  looked  at  his 
wife,  and  his  wife  at  him.  Each  seemed  waiting 
for  the  other  to  speak.  At  length  Wily  replied : 
"  Mr.  Frankheart,  your  memory  must  be  failing. 
It  is  true  you  talked  of  leaving  a  bag  of  gold  with 
us,  but  we  gave  it  back  to  you,  for  we  did  not  like 
to  take  the  risk  of  having  it  stolen." 

6.  "  And  do  you  say  the  same  ?"  asked  Frank- 
heart,  looking  at  the  woman.  "  Yes,"  replied  she, 
blushing.  "  Do  you  suppose  my  husband  would 
tell  a  falsehood?  It  is  not  very  likely  that  we 
would  have  taken  the  care  of  five  hundred  dollars 
in  gold  without  being  paid  for  it."  "  Well,  neigh- 
bors," said  Frankheart,  "  inasmuch  as  I  omitted  to 
take  your  receipt  for  the  money,  I  suppose  I  must 
lose  it ;  but  you  will  find  that  money  so  got  will 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


69 


not  do  you  much  good.  I  am  sorry  more  for  your 
own  sake  than  for  mine.  Which  do  you  think 
will  sleep  the  sounder  to-night,  you  or  I  ?" 

7.  He  took  up  his  hat  and  left  the  house,  and 
Mrs.  Wily  said  to  her  husband  :  "  Call  him  back, 
and  tell  him  we  were  only  joking.  He's  right, 
husband.  The  money  will  be  a  curse  to  us." 
"  Oh  no,  'tis  good  shining  gold,"  said  Wily  ;  "  be- 
sides, Frankheart  is  much  richer  than  we  are. 
He  can  afford  to  lose  it."  Frankheart  went  to 
Judge  Brown,  and  told  him  the  story.  "  And  did 
you  take  a  receipt  for  the  money  ?"  asked  the 
judge.  "  No,"  replied  Frankheart ;  "  I  supposed 
Neighbor  Wily  was  honest  as  the  sun,  and  then 
his  wife  stood  by,  and  saw  me  give  him  the 
gold." 

8.  "  Well,  Mr.  Frankheart,  do  you  step  into 
that  inner  room  and  wait,  while  I  send  for  this 
Mr.  Wily  and  question  him."  Frankheart  obeyed, 
and  the  judge  sent  an  officer  to  request  Wily  to 
call  at  the  judge's  office  without  delay.  As  soon 
as  Wily  arrived,  the  judge  said  to  him  :  "  I  learn 
that  you  have  received  as  a  deposit  a  large  sum  of 
money  in  gold,  and  that  you  refuse  to  return  it  to 
the  right  owner.  What  do  you  say  to  the  charge  ?" 
"  I  deny  it  wholly,"  replied  Wily. 

9.  "  Well,"  replied  Judge  Brown,  "  let  us  sup- 
pose you  innocent ;  but,  in  order  to  convince  me 
of  it,  write  to  your  wife  the  letter  I  am  about  to 
dictate  to  you.  She  is  said  to  have  been  a  witness 
to  the  transaction,  and  if  what  you  say  is  true  it 


70        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 

can  be  easily  shown.  Now,  sir,  write  these  words." 
"  But,  may  it  please  your  honor,"  said  Wily,  who 
was  not  well  pleased  at  the  proposal,  "  why  not  let 
me  go  home  and  bring  my  wife  before  you  ?  That 
will  be  the  most  direct  way  of  learning  what  she 
has  to  say."  "  Allow  me  to  choose  my  own  way," 
said  the  judge.  "  Here  are  pen,  ink  and  paper. 
Write !" 

10.  Wily  looked  at  the  door,  as  if  he  were  half 
inclined  to  run ;  but  as  officers  stood  near,  that 
plan  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  He  took  up  a  pen 
and  wrote,  while  the  judge  dictated  these  words : 
"  My  dear  wife :  Give  the  bearer  that  bag  of  gold 
belonging  to  Mr.  Frankheart.  I  am  about  to  re- 
store it  to  him."  The  judge  carefully  examined 
the  letter  to  see  that  it  contained  these  words  and 
nothing  more.  Wily  rose  to  go,  hoping  he  might 
reach  his  home  in  season  to  explain  matters  to  his 
wife ;  but  the  judge,  in  a  loud,  stern  voice,  ex- 
claimed, "  Sit  down,  sir,  and  wait  for  the  return  of 
my  messenger." 

11.  Trembling  at  the  thought  of  exposure,  Wily 
sank  into  a  chair.  One  of  the  officers  received  from 
the  judge  the  letter  and  departed.  In  less  than 
half  an  hour  the  officer  returned  with  a  bag,  which 
he  gave  to  the  judge,  who  read  the  label,  and  then 
counted  the  money,  and  found  that  it  amounted 
to  just  five  hundred  dollars.  The  wretched  Wily 
threw  himself  on  his  knees,  confessed  his  knavery, 
and  begged  the  judge  to  forgive  him.  The  judge 
threw  open  a  door,  and  pointing  to  Frankheart, 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  71 


said  to  Wily,  "  Here  is  the  man  to  whom  you  must 
sue  for  pardon." 

12.  "I  think,  judge,"  said  Mr.  Frankheart, 
"  that  his  own  conscience  will  punish  him  enough." 
"  I  am  not  sure  of  that,"  replied  the  judge  ;  "  men 
capable  of  such  baseness  have  generally  succeeded 
in  hardening  and  perverting  what  little  conscience 
they  may  have  had.  But  if  you  refuse  to  appear 
against  this  man,  he  can  be  released."  "  I  do  re- 
fuse," said  Frankheart,  "  for  I  hope  he  will  re- 
form." "  Then,"  said  the  judge,  "  I  have  nothing 
more  to  say,  except  that  you,  Mr.  Frankheart, 
deserve  to  be  rebuked  for  trusting  any  man,  honest 
or  dishonest,  with  money,  without  taking  a  receipt." 
Having  spoken  these  words,  the  judge  dismissed 
them. 


LESSON  XXII. 


Dis'so-lute,  loose ;  vicious. 
Fraii/ty,  weakness  ;  liability  to 
error. 

Gain-say7,  to  contradict. 
Ma-tur/i-ty,  ripeness  ;  full  age. 


Ne'er  (nar),  contraction  of  never. 
Pai/ter  (pawl'ter),  to  shift  01 

dodge ;  to  quibble. 
Re-pulsed7,  beat  back  ;  checked 
Soi/ace,  comfort ;  relief. 


NO. 
I. 

There's  a  word  very  short,  but  decided  and  plain, 

That  speaks  to  the  purpose  at  once ; 
Not  a  child  but  its  meaning  can  quickly  explain, 

Yet  often  'tis  hard  to  pronounce. 
What  a  world  of  vexation  and  trouble  'twould  spare. 

What  peace  and  content  'twould  bestow. 


72       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


If  we  turned,  when  temptation  would  lure  and  ensnare. 
And  firmly  repulsed  it  with  "  No  !" 

II. 

When  the  idler  would  tempt  us,  with  trifles  and  play, 

To  waste  the  bright  moments  so  dear, 
When  the  scoffer  unholy  our  faith  would  gainsay,  • 

And  mock  at  the  word  we  revere, 
When  dissolute  folly  and  sin  would  invite, 

And  a  snare  over  conscience  would  throw, 
Never  palter  with  truth  for  a  fleeting  delight, 

But  check  the  first  impulse  with  "  No  !" 

III. 

In  the  morning  of  life,  in  maturity's  day, 

Whatever  the  cares  that  engage, 
Be  the  precepts  of  virtue  our  guide  and  our  stay, 

Our  solace  from  childhood  to  age ! 
Thus  the  heart  shall  not  waver,  no  matter  how  tried, 

But  firmness  and  constancy  show, 
And  when  passion  or  frailty  would  draw  us  aside, 

We'll  spurn  the  seducer  with  "  No !" 


LESSON  XXIII. 


Com'bat  (kSm'-  or  kum'-),  a  fight. 
Ex-as/per-at-ed  (egz-), provoked. 
Fe-ro'cious,  fierce ;  wild. 
Humble  (hum'bl  or  iim'bl), lowly. 
La/ma  or  Lla'ma  (la/ma),a  small 

species  of  camel. 
Men-ag'e-rie  (men-azh'6-ry),  a 

place  where  wild  beasts  are  kept. 


Noose  (nooz  or  noos),  a  running 
knot. 

Raft'er,  a  roof-timber. 

Sagacious  (sa-ga/shus),  quick  of 
scent;  shrewd;  acute;  intelli- 
gent. 

Savage,  fierce;  Inhuman. 
TVgress,  female  of  the  tiger. 


SCENE  IN  A  MENAGERIE. 

1.  Not  long  since,  in  a  menagerie  of  wild  ani- 
mals, a  tigress  broke  out  of  her  cage  during  the 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  73 


absence  of  the  keeper  at  dinner.  The  ferocious 
beast  sprang  at  a  lama,  killed  it,  and  was  sucking 
its  blood  when  the  keeper  entered. 

2.  The  man's  first  attempt  was  to  fling  a  noose 
over  the  head  of  the  tigress,  but  before  he  could  do 
this  she  turned  and  prepared  to  spring.  It  was  a 
moment  of  extreme  peril. 

3.  The  eyes  of  the  tigress  flashed  fire,  and  her 
opened  jaws  threatened  death.  The  keeper  knew 
not  what  to  do.  He  had  but  a  moment  in  which 
to  decide.  In  that  moment  he  darted  behind  an 
elephant  which  stood  near  by. 

4.  The  sagacious  animal  seemed  to  comprehend 
what  was  going  on.  He  was  calm  but  vigilant. 
The  tigress,  raising  herself  on  her  hind  feet,  sprang 
with  her  utmost  force,  and  was  bounding  by  in 
pursuit  of  the  keeper,  when  the  elephant  put  forth 
his  trunk,  seized  the  furious  beast  and  pitched  her 
to  the  farther  end  of  the  apartment. 

5.  All  the  animals  were  by  this  time  in  a  state 
of  commotion.  The  monkeys  jumped  for  their 
lives,  and  scattered  wildly.  The  baboons  scam- 
pered up  the  rafters  and  there  held  on,  looking 
down  and  winking  at  the  enraged  tigress  as  she 
rose  from  her  fall.  The  elephant  maintained  his 
composure,  and  the  lion  looked  on  with  dignity 
from  his  cage. 

6.  The  savage  tigress  seemed  resolved  not  to  give 
up  the  combat.  She  was  creeping  along  as  if  to 
renew  the  attack,  when  the  keeper  thought  he 
would  get  on  the  elephant's  back,  and  commanded 

si 


74        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


him  to  place  him  there.  This  the  sagacious  animal 
did  with  a  single  toss  of  his  trunk. 

7.  The  tigress  was  exasperated  at  seeing  the  man 
thus  put  out  of  her  reach.  She  drew  back  and 
made  another  spring  at  him,  but  the  elephant 
caught  her  midway,  and  hurled  her  with  great 
force  against  the  wall.  Bruised  and  humbled,  she 
gave  up  the  fight  after  this,  and  slunk  back  quietly 
into  her  cage  without  doing  any  more  mischief. 


THE  FLOWERS  OF  THE  FIELD. 

Your  voiceless  lips,  O  flowers,  are  living  preachers, 

Each  cup  a  pulpit,  and  each  leaf  a  book, 
Supplying  to  my  fancy  numerous  teachers 
From  loneliest  nook. 


Floral  apostles  !  that  in  clewy  splendor 

Weep  without  woe,  and  blush  without  a  crime ! 
Oh  may  I  deeply  learn,  and  ne'er  surrender, 
Your  lore  sublime  I 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  75 


LESSON  XXIV. 

dunce  drone  white  breakfast 
once       scold     night  pleasant 


THE  TARDY  BOY. 

MOTHER. 

See  !  the  hour  for  school  is  near  : 
Robert,  Robert,  do  you  hear  ? 


ROBERT. 

Mother,  mother,  do  not  fret ! 

I'm  not  through  my  breakfast  yet. 

MOTHER. 

From  your  bed  you  should  have  sprung 
When  the  early  bell  was  rung. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER 


ROBERT. 

All  my  window-panes  were  white 
With  the  frost  we  had  la?t  night. 

MOTHER. 

If  you  would  not  be  a  dunce, 
Brave  the  cold,  and  rise  at  once. 

ROBERT. 

When  Jack  Frost  is  in  the  case, 
Bed  is  such  a  pleasant  place ! 

MOTHER. 

He  who  loves  his  bed  so  well 
Never,  never  will  excel. 

ROBERT. 

Mother,  mother,  do  not  scold  ! 
I  shall  soon  be  eight  years  old. 

MOTHER. 

More's  the  shame  for  you,  my  son. 
Leaving  duties  thus  undone  ! 

ROBERT. 

Something  whispers  in  my  ear, 
You  are  right,  my  mother  dear. 

MOTHER. 

Then  get  down,  sir,  from  your  stool, 
And  run  quickly  off  to  school. 

ROBERT. 

Off  I  go !  you  shall  not  see 
After  this  a  drone  in  me. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  77 


LESSON  XXV. 

Col-lo'qui-al,  conversational.  Friv'o-lous,  slight ;  vain. 

Com'pass  (kuni-),  space;   an  in-  Haunt  (Iiant),  to  resort  to. 

strument  by  which   ships   are  Ma-rine'  (ma-reen7),  of  the  sea. 

steered.  Of-fi'cious  (fish'us),  meddling. 

Doesn't,  a  contraction  of  does  not.  \  Progress,  motion  forward. 

E'qua-bly,  evenly ;  uniformly.  \  Writh'ing  (rlih'ing),  twisting 
Ex-traor'di-na-ry    (eks-tror-),  {      with  violence  or  pain. 

uncommon;  remarkable.  I  You're,  contraction  of  you,  are. 

BREVITIES. 
EXERCISES  IX  COLLOQUIAL  DELIVERY. 

1.  How  to  Ruix  Health. — A  humorous  writer 
gives  the  following  rules  for  ruining  health  :  Stay 
in  bed  late.  Eat  hot  suppers.  Turn  day  into 
night,  and  night  into  day.  Take  no  exercise. 
Always  ride  when  you  can  walk.  Never  mind 
about  wet  feet.  Have  half  a  dozen  doctors.  Take 
all  the  medicine  they  give  you.  Try  every  new 
quack.    If  that  doesn't  kill  you,  quack  yourself. 

2.  Carrying  a  Joke  too  far. — A  fellow  stole 
a  saw,  and  on  his  trial  told  the  judge  that  he  only 
took  it  in  joke.  "  HowT  far  did  you  carry  it  ?"  in- 
quired the  judge.  "  Two  miles,"  answered  the 
prisoner.  "  Ah !  that's  carrying  a  joke  too  far  !" 
said  the  judge,  and  the  prisoner  was  sentenced  to 
hard  labor  in  the  house  of  correction  for  three 
months. 

3.  Too  Officious. — "  Your  house  is  on  fire !" 
exclaimed  a  stranger,  rushing  into  the  parlor  of  a 
pompous  and  formal  citizen.    "  Well,  sir,"  replied 

the  latter,  "  to  what  cause  am  I  indebted  for  the 

:u  * 


78       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


extraordinary  interest  which  you  seem  to  take  in 
the  affairs  of  my  house  ?" 

4.  Making  the  Best  of  Things. — "  I  have  told 
you/'  says  a  celebrated  poet,  "  of  the  Spaniard  who, 
when  about  to  eat  cherries,  always  put  on  spectacles, 
in  order  that  the  fruit  might  look  larger  and  more 
tempting.  In  like  manner  I  make  the  most  of  my 
enjoyments,  and  though  I  do  not  cast  my  eyes  away 
from  my  troubles,  I  pack  them  in  as  small  a  com- 
pass as  I  can  for  myself,  and  never  let  them  annoy 
others." 

5.  Fate  of  Idlers. — The  man  who  did  not 
think  it  was  respectable  to  bring  up  his  children 
to  work  has  just  heard  from  his  three  sons.  One 
of  them  is  a  driver  on  a  canal,  another  has  been 
taken  up  as  a  vagrant,  and  the  third  has  gone  to  a 
certain  public  institution  to  learn  to  hammer  stone 
under  a  keeper. 

6.  The  Dull  Razor. — "Does  this  razor  go 
easy  ?"  asked  a  barber  of  his  customer,  who  was 
writhing  under  a  clumsy  instrument,  the  chief 
recommendation  of  which  was  a  strong  handle. 
"  Well,"  replied  the  poor  fellow,  "  that  depends  on 
what  you  call  this  operation.  If  you're  skinning 
me,  the  razor  goes  tolerably  easy,  but  if  you're  shav- 
ing me,  it  goes  rather  hard."  "Doesn't  it  take 
hold  ?"  asked  the  barber.  "  Yes,  it  takes  hold,  but 
it  won't  let  go,"  replied  the  victim. 

7.  Murdering  a  Tune. — Foote  once  asked  a 
man  without  a  sense  of  tune  in  him,  "  Why  are 
you  for  ever  humming  that  tune  ?"    "  Because  it 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  79 


haunts  me,"  was  the  reply.  "  Xo  wonder/'  said 
Foote  ;  "  you  are  for  ever  murdering  it." 

8.  The  Quaker's  Retort. — A  Quaker  and  a 
hot-headed  youth  were,  on  a  recent  occasion,  quar- 
reling in  the  street.  The  man  with  the  broad- 
brimmed  hat  kept  his  temper  most  equably,  which 
seemed  but  to  increase  the  anger  of  the  other. 
"  Fellow,"  said  the  latter  with  an  oath,  "  I  don't 
know  a  bigger  fool  than  you  are."  "  Stop,  friend," 
replied  the  Quaker  ;  "  thou  dost  forget  thyself." 

9.  On  Early  Rising. — Said  Lord  Chatham  to 
his  son  :  "I  would  inscribe  on  the  curtains  of  your 
bed  and  the  walls  of  your  chamber, '  If  you  do  not 
rise  early,  you  can  make  progress  in  nothing.  If  you 
do  not  set  apart  your  hours  of  reading,  if  you  suffer 
yourself  or  any  one  else  to  break  in  upon  them, 
your  days  will  slip  through  your  hands  unprofit- 
able and  frivolous,  and  unenjoyed  by  yourself.'  " 

10.  The  Judge  and  the  Lawyer. — On  a  cer- 
tain occasion,  when  pleading  a  cause  at  the  bar, 
Lawyer  Brooks  observed  to  Judge  Rice  that  he 
would  conclude  his  remarks  on  the  following  day 
unless  the  court  would  consent  to  set  late  enough 
for  him  to  finish  them  that  evening.  "  Sit,  sir," 
said  the  judge,  "  not  set :  hens  set."  "  I  stand 
corrected,  sir,"  replied  the  lawyer,  bowing.  Not 
long  after,  the  judge,  while  giving  an  opinion  in  a 
marine  case,  asked,  in  regard  to  a  certain  shij), 
"  At  what  wharf  does  she  lay  t"  "  Lie,  may  it 
please  your  honor,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brooks,  "  not 
lay :  hens  lay." 


80  THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XXVI. 


A-poth'e-ca-ry,  one  who  dis- 
penses medicines. 

Be-stow'al,  act  of  giving. 

Dis-as'ter,  misfortune;  grief. 

Pasture,  land  on  which  cattle 
feed. 


Raii/ler-y   (r&l'ler-y),  banter; 

slight  ridicule;  irony. 
Rescued,  set  free  ;  delivered. 
Taunt  (tant),  an  insult. 
Vaunt  (viint),  a  boast;  a  brag. 
Wound'ed  (woond'ed),  hurt. 


THE  PRIZE  FOR  HEROISM. 

1.  It  was  the  clay  of  a  public  exhibition  at  our 
academy.  A  number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  the 
parents  and  friends  of  the  scholars,  were  present. 
Prizes  for  scholarship  had  been  awarded  to  a  num- 
ber of  boys,  and  much  applause  had  been  bestowed 
upon  some  of  those  who  had  excelled  in  declama- 
tion. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  81 


2.  At  last  our  teacher  stood  up  and  remarked 
that  there  was  one  prize,  consisting  of  a  gold  medal, 
which  was  rarely  awarded,  not  so  much  on  account 
of  its  great  cost  as  because  the  instances  were  rare 
which  rendered  its  bestowal  proper.  It  was  the 
prize  for  heroism.  The  last  boy  who  received  it 
was  young  Manners,  who,  three  years  ago,  at  the 
risk  of  his  own  life,  rescued  a  child  from  drowning. 

3.  "  With  the  permission  of  this  company,"  said 
the  teacher,  "  I  will  now  relate  a  brief  story.  Not 
long  since,  some  boys  of  this  school  were  flying  a 
kite  in  the  street  just  as  a  poor  lad  on  horseback 
rode  by  on  his  way  to  mill.  The  horse  took  fright 
and  threw  the  lad,  injuring  him  so  that  he  was 
carried  home  and  confined  some  weeks  to  his  bed. 
Of  the  boys  who  had  caused  the  disaster,  none  fol- 
lowed to  learn  the  fate  of  the  wounded  lad.  There 
was  one  boy  of  this  school,  however,  who  had  wit- 
nessed the  accident  from  a  distance,  who  not  only 
went  to  make  inquiries,  but  stayed  to  render  ser- 
vices. 

4.  "  This  boy  soon  learned  that  the  wounded  lad 
was  the  grandson  of  a  poor  widow  whose  sole  means 
of  support  consisted  in  selling  the  milk  of  a  fine 
cow  of  which  she  was  the  owner.  What  could  she 
do  now  ?  She  was  old  and  lame,  and  her  grand- 
son, on  whom  she  had  depended  to  drive  the  cow 
to  pasture,  was  on  his  back  helpless.  '  Never 
mind,  good  woman,'  said  the  boy  of  the  academy ; 
'  I  can  drive  your  cow.'  With  blessings  and  thanks 
the  old  woman  accepted  his  offer. 


82  THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


5.  "  But  his  kindness  did  not  stop  here.  Money 
was  wanted  to  get  articles  from  the  apothecary. 
'  I  have  some  money  that  my  mother  sent  me  to 
buy  a  pair  of  boots  with/  said  our  scholar,  '  but  I 
can  do  without  them  for  a  while.'  '  Oh  no,'  said  the 
old  woman,  '  I  can't  consent  to  that ;  but  here  is  a 
new  pair  of  cow-hide  boots  that  I  bought  for  Henry, 
who  now  can't  wear  them.  If  you  would  only 
buy  these,  giving  us  what  they  cost*  we  should 
get  along  nicely.'  The  scholar  bought  the  boots, 
clumsy  as  they  were,  and  has  worn  them  up  to  this 
time. 

6.  "  Well,  when  it  was  discovered  by  other  boys 
of  the  academy  that  our  scholar  was  in  the  habit  of 
driving  a  cow,  he  was  assailed  by  them  every  day 
with  laughter  and  ridicule.  ■  Admire  those  boots !' 
one  boy  would  cry  ;  '  the  latest  Paris  style  !'  '  What's 
the  price  of  milk  ?'  would  be  the  taunt  of  another ; 
and,  i  How  much  water  do  you  put  in  the  cans, 
Jonathan  ?' 

7.  "To  all  these  jeers  our  scholar  presented  a 
brave  and  cheerful  front,  driving  the  widow's  cow 
and  wearing  his  thick  boots  without  a  word  of 
explanation,  for  he  was  not  inclined  to  make  a 
vaunt  of  his  charitable  motives,  and,  furthermore, 
in  his  heart,  he  had  no  sympathy  with  the  false 
pride  that  could  look  with  ridicule  on  any  useful 
employment.  It  was  by  mere  accident  that  his 
course  of  kindness  and  self-denial  was  yesterday 
made  known  to  his  teacher. 

8.  "  And  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  appeal  to 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  83 


you  if  there  was  not  true  heroism  in  this  boy's 
conduct.  Nay,  Master  Hartley,  do  not  slink  out 
of  sight  behind  the  blackboard  !  You  were  not 
afraid  of  ridicule :  you  must  not  now  be  afraid  of 
praise.  Come  forth,  come  forth,  Master  Edward 
James  Hartley,  and  let  us  see  your-  honest  face. 
You  need  not  be  ashamed  of  it." 

9.  As  Hartley,  with  blushing  cheeks,  made  his 
appearance,  what  a  round  of  applause,  in  which 
the  whole  company  joined,  spoke  the  general  ap- 
probation of  his  conduct  !  The  ladies  stood  up  on 
benches  and  waved  their  handkerchiefs.  The  old 
men  wiped  the  gathering  moisture  from  the  corners 
of  their  eyes  and  clapped  their  hands.  Those 
clumsy  boots  on  Hartley's  feet  seemed  a  prouder 
ornament  than  a  crown  would  have  been  on  his 
head.  The  medal  was  bestowed  on  him  amid 
general  acclamation,  in  which  all  the  boys,  in- 
cluding those  who  had  once  laughed  at  him,  now 
heartily  joined. 

10.  One  of  them,  of  the  name  of  Jameson,  went 
up  after  we  were  dismissed,  and  with  the  tears  of  a 
manly  self-rebuke  in  his  eyes  tendered  his  hand 
to  Hartley,  and  made  a  handsome  apology  for  his 
past  insolence  and  ill-manners.  "  Think  no  more 
of  it,  old  fellow,"  said  Hartley,  with  delightful  cor- 
diality ;  "  let  us  all  go  and  have  a  good  ramble  in  the 
woods  before  we  break  up  for  vacation."  The  boys, 
one  by  one,  followed  Jameson's  example,  and  then 
we  set  forth  with  huzzas  into  the  ^woods.  What  a 
happy  day  it  was  ! 


Si        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XXVII. 


Ca-reer',  a  course  ;  a  race. 

Char-ac-ter-is/tic,  peculiar ;  con- 
stituting or  marking  character. 

Conscience,  the  faculty  of  know- 
ing right  and  wrong. 

Cow/ered,  sank  by  bending  the 
knees;  crouched. 

Dis-cern'  (diz-zern/),to  make  dis- 
tinction. 

Ear/nest,  zealous ;  serious. 

Ex-rc-UND'ER,  an  explainer. 

I-de'al,  existing  in  idea. 

Im-plk/it  (-plis/it), firm ;  implied ; 
resting  on  authority  of  others. 


In-gen'u-ous  (-jen'-),  frank. 

Neutral,  indifferent. 

Pli'ant,  easily  bent. 

Prac'tioe  or  Practise,  to  per- 
form constantly ;  to  do  habit- 
ually. 

Pristine  (pris/tln),  first ;  earliest. 
Romance',  a  tale  of  wild  adven- 
ture. 

Rug'by,  a  market-town  in  the 

center  of  England. 
Tem'po-ral,  relating  to  time  and 

to  things  of  the  world. 
Zest,  relish ;  flavor. 


ARNOLD  THE  TEACHER. 

1.  The  career  of  Thomas  Arnold,  the  distin- 
guished instructor  of  youth,  though  teeming  with 
the  poetry  of  common  life,  was  not  one  of  stirring 
incident  or  romance  :  it  consisted  in  laboring  to 
his  best  in  his  sacred  vocation.  Born  in  England 
in  1795,  he  was  educated  at  Winchester  College, 
and  in  1827  became  head-master  of  Rugby  School, 
lie  died  in  1842  at  the  early  age  of  forty-seven. 

2.  His  professional  life  began  at  Rugby,  and  he 
plunged  into  fourteen  years  of  uninterrupted  toil. 
Holding  labor  to  be  his  appointed  lot  on  earth,  he 
harnessed  himself  cheerfully  to  his  work.  A  crav- 
ing for  rest  was  to  him  a  sure  sign  that  neither 
mind  nor  body  retained  its  pristine  vigor,  and  he 
determined,  while  blessed  with  health,  to  proceed 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  85 


like  tlie  camel  in  the  wilderness,  and  die  with  his 
burden  on  his  back.  His  characteristic  trait  was 
intense  earnestness.  He  felt  life  keenly,  its  re- 
sponsibilities as  well  as  its  enjoyments.  His  very 
pleasures  were  earnest.  In  nothing  was  he  indif- 
ferent or  neutral. 

3.  His  principles  were  few  :  the  fear  of  God  wa» 
the  beginning  of  his  wisdom,  and  his  object  was 
not  so  much  to  teach  knowledge  as  the  means 
of  acquiring  it — to  furnish,  in  a  word,  the  key  to 
the  temple.  He  desired  to  awaken  the  intellect 
of  each  individual  boy,  and  contended  that  the 
main  movement  must  come  from  within,  and  not 
from  tvithout  the  pupil,  and  that  all  that  could  be 
should  be  done  by  him,  and  not  for  him. 

4.  In  a  word,  his  scheme  was  to  call  forth  in  the 
little  world  of  school  those  capabilities  which  best 
fitted  boys  for  their  career  in  the  great  world.  He 
was  not  only  possessed  of  strength,  but  had  the  art 
of  imparting  it ;  he  had  the  power  to  grasp  a  sub- 
ject himself,  and  then  ingraft  it  on  the  intellect 
of  others. 

5.  His  pupils  were  made  to  feel  that  there  was 
a  work  for  them  to  do — that  their  happiness  as  well 
as  their  duty  lay  in  doing  that  work  well.  Hence 
an  indescribable  zest  was  communicated  to  a  young 
man's  feeling  about  life  ;  a  strange  joy  came  over 
him  on  discerning  that  he  had  the  means  of  being 
useful,  and  thus  of  being  happy.  He  was  inspired 
with  a  humble,  profound  and  most  religious  con- 
sciousness that  work  is  the  appointed  calling  of 

32 


86  THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


man  on  earth,  the  element  in  which  his  nature  is 
ordained  to  develop  itself,  and  in  which  his  progres- 
sive advancement  toward  heaven  is  to  lie. 

6.  The  three  ends  at  which  Arnold  aimed,  in 
the  order  of  their  relative  importance,  were,  first 
and  foremost,  to  inculcate  religious  and  moral  prin- 
ciple, then  gentlemanlike  conduct,  and,  lastly,  intel- 
lectual ability.  To  his  mind,  religion  and  politics — 
the  doing  one's  duty  to  God  and  to  man — were  the 
two  things  really  wanting.  Unlike  the  school- 
masters of  his  early  life,  he  held  all  the  scholar- 
ship man  ever  had,  to  be  infinitely  worthless  in 
comparison  with  even  a  very  humble  degree  of 
spiritual  advancement. 

7.  He  loved  tuition  for  itself,  of  which  he  fully 
felt  the  solemn  responsibility  and  the  ideal  beauty, 
and  which  he  was  among  the  first  to  elevate  to  its 
true  dignity.  It  was  the  destiny  and  business  of 
his  entire  life.  His  own  youthfulness  of  tempera- 
ment and  vigor  Utted  him  better  for  the  society 
of  the  young  than  of  the  old ;  he  enjoyed  their 
spring  of  mind  and  body,  and  by  personal  inter- 
course hoped  to  train  up  and  mold  to  good  their 
pliant  minds  while  wax  to  receive  and  marble  to 
retain. 

8.  He  led  his  pupils  to  place  implicit  trust  in 
his  decisions,  and  to  esteem  his  approbation  as  their 
highest  reward.  He  gained  his  end  by  treating 
them  as  gentlemen,  as  reasonable  beings,  in  whose 
conscience  and  common  sense  he  might  confide ; 
and  to  this  appeal  to  their  nobler  faculties,  to  his 


THE  NEW  AMERICAS  FOURTH  READER.  87 


relying  on  their  honor,  the  ingenuous  youth  re- 
sponded worthily. 

9.  Once,  when  teaching  a  rather  dull  boy,  he 
spoke  somewhat  sharply  to  him,  on  which  the 
pupil  looked  up  in  his  face,  and  said,  "  Why  do 
you  speak  so  angrily,  sir  ?  Indeed,  I  am  doing  the 
best  I  can."  Arnold  at  once  acknowledged  his 
error,  and  expressed  his  regret  for  it.  Years  after- 
ward he  used  to  tell  the  story  to  his  children,  and 
added,  "  I  never  felt  so  much  in  my  life  :  that  look 
and  that  speech  I  have  never  forgotten." 

10.  One  of  his  principal  holds  was  in  his  boy- 
sermons — that  is,  in  sermons  to  which  his  young 
congregation  could  and  did  listen,  and  of  which  he 
was  the  absolute  inventor.  The  secret  of  that 
power  lay  in  its  intimate  connection  with  the  man 
himself.  He  spoke  with  both  spiritual  and  tem- 
poral authority,  and  truths  divine  seemed  mended 
by  the  tongue  of  an  expounder  whose  discourse 
was  a  living  one — doctrine  in  action — and  where 
precept  was  enforced  by  example. 

11.  His  was  the  exhibition  of  a  simple,  earnest 
man,  who  practiced  what  he  preached,  who  probed 
the  depths  of  life,  and  expressed  strongly  and  plainly 
his  love  of  goodness  and  abhorrence  of  sin.  There 
was,  indeed,  a  moral  supremacy  in  him ;  his  eyes 
looked  into  the  heart,  and  all  that  was  base  and 
mean  cowered  before  him,  and,  when  he  preached, 
a  sympathetic  thrill  ran  through  his  audience. 
His  was  the  eloquence  which  goes  swiftly  to  the 
heart  of  every  hearer. 


88       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON 

Beacon  (be'kn),  a  signal-fire. 
Chorus  (ko'rus),  verses  of  a  song 

in  which  the  company  join. 
Churl,  a  surly,  ill-bred  fellow. 
Cor'o-nal,  a  wreath  or  crown. 
Dross,  scum  ;  worldly  riches. 
Droughty  (drow/ty),  dry ;  arid. 
Hymnless  (hini'les),  having  or 

singing  no  hymn. 


XXVIII. 

Luscious  (lush/us),  very  sweet. 
Lust/y,  strong ;  vigorous. 
Ne'er  (nar),  a  contraction  of  never 
Niggard,  a  miser. 
Per-fume',  to  scent. 
Scant'y,  small ;  narrow. 
Trans-port'ed,  carried  away 

affected  with  delight. 
World'ling,  a  worldly  person. 


"NOT  TO  MYSELF  ALONE." 
I. 

"  Not  to  myself  alone," 
The  little  opening  flower  transported  cries — 
"  Not  to  myself  alone  I  bud  and  bloom ; 
With  fragrant  breath  the  breezes  I  perfume, 
And  gladden  all  things  with  my  rainbow  dies. 
The  bee  comes  sipping,  every  eventide, 

His  dainty  fill ; 
The  butterfly  within  my  cup  doth  hide 
From  threatening  ill." 

II. 

"Not  to  myself  alone," 
The  circling  star  with  honest  pride  doth  boast — 
"  Not  to  myself  alone  I  rise  and  set ; 
I  write  upon  night's  coronal  of  jet 
His  power  and  skill  who  formed  our  myriad  host ; 
A  friendly  beacon  at  heaven's  open  gate, 

I  gem  the  sky, 
That  man  might  ne'er  forget,  in  every  fate, 
His  home  on  high." 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  89 


HI. 

"  Not  to  myself  alone," 
The  heavy-laden  bee  doth  murmuring  hum — 
"Not  to  myself  alone,  from  flower  to  flower, 
I  rove  the  wood,  the  garden  and  the  bowei, 
And  to  the  hive  at  evening  weary  come: 
For  man,  for  man,  the  luscious  food  I  pile 

With  busy  care, 
Content  if  he  repay  my  ceaseless  toil 
With  scanty  share." 

IV. 

"  Not  to  myself  alone," 
The  soaring  bird  with  lusty  pinion  sings — 
"  Not  to  myself  alone  I  raise  my  song ; 
I  cheer  the  drooping  with  my  warbling  tongue, 
And  bear  the  mourner  on  my  viewless  wings ; 
I  bid  the  hymnless  churl  my  anthem  learn, 

And  God  adore ; 
I  call  the  worldling  from  his  dross  to  turn, 
And  sing  and  soar." 

V. 

"  Not  to  myself  alone," 
The  streamlet  whispers  on  its  pebbly  way — 
"  Not  to  myself  alone  I  sparkling  glide ; 
T  scatter  health  and  life  on  every  side, 
And  strew  the  fields  with  herb  and  floweret  gay 
I  sing  unto  the  common  bleak  and  bare 

My  gladsome  tune ; 
J  sweeten  and  refresh  the  languid  air 
In  droughty  June." 

VI. 

"  Not  to  myself  alone !" 
O  man,  forget  not  thou — earth's  honored  priest, 
32  * 


90      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Its  tongue,  its  soul,  its  life,  its  pulse,  its  heart- 
In  earth's  great  chorus  to  sustain  thy  part ! 
Chiefest  of  guests  at  Love's  ungrudging  feast, 
Play  not  the  niggard ;  spurn  thy  native  clod, 

And  self  disown ; 
Live  to  thy  neighbor ;  live  unto  thy  God  : 

Not  to  thyself  alone! 


LESSON  XXIX. 

Answered,  responded  to.  Sneer'ing,  scoffing;  jeering. 

Hearty,  cordial;  robust.  Shov/el  (shuv/vl),  to  throw  with 

Kin'dlings,  materials  for  making         a  shovel. 


a  fire.  Shrixk/ing,  drawing  back. 


THAT'S  HOW. 


1.  It  was  a  bitter  cold  day.  There  had  been 
a  great  snow-storm,  and  the  sky  still  had  a  black 
and  angry  look.     "  Dear  me !"  said  Mrs.  Wilson 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  91 


as  she  glanced  out  of  the  window ;  "  the  doorways 
are  all  blocked  up  ;  see  how  the  snow  has  drifted 
into  the  yard  !  Ann  cannot  get  out  to  the  wood- 
shed for  her  kindlings.  Those  poor  hens,  too, 
have  not  been  fed  since  yesterday  morning. 
What  shall  we  do  without  somebody  to  dig  a  path 
for  us !" 

2.  "  I  can  shovel  a  path,  grandmother,'7  said 
John,  a  bright  boy  about  eight  years  old.  "  It  is 
too  hard  work  for  you,  I  fear,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson ; 
"  and  besides,  we  have  nothing  but  this  coal-sifter  to 
shovel  with."  "  Xo  matter,"  said  John ;  "I  can  try." 

3.  So  he  put  on  his  hat,  tied  his  tippet  round 
his  neck,  turned  up  his  trowsers,  and  went  to  work 
with  a  will.  But  while  he  was  tossing  away  the 
snow,  a  man  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  his 
hands  in  his  jackets  came  lounging  along. 

4.  Instead  of  lending  John  a  helping  hand  or 
saying  to  him  a  kind  word,  as  such  a  great  hearty 
fellow  might  have  done,  he  called  out  in  a  sneer- 
ing tone,  "  Boy,  why  don't  you  get  a  spoon  to 
shovel  with  ?  How  do  you  expect  to  get  through 
that  snow-drift  with  that  thing  ?" 

5.  "  By  keeping  at  it — that's  how !"  answered 
John,  looking  up  and  letting  the  snow  fall  from 
bis  little  coal-sifter.  Then,  without  wasting  any 
more  time  in  words,  he  turned  to  his  work  again. 
Hard  work  it  was.  He  was  soon  very  tired  and 
his  back  began  to  ache.  But  he  kept  at  his  cask 
bravely  until  he  had  dug  a  good  path. 

6.  Now,  girls  and  boys,  we  all  shall  have  paths 


92        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


to  dig  of  one  kind  or  another  as  we  go  through 
life.  Many  snow-drifts  will  lie  in  our  way.  But 
if  we  will  all  keep  at  work  with  a  good  heart,  we 
shall  be  sure  to  come  out  right  at  last.  Bear  this 
in  mind ;  and  when  yon  find  yourselves  shrinking 
from  any  useful  labor,  and  asking  yourselves, 
"  How  shall  I  ever  do  this  ?"  be  ready  with  John 
Wilson's  answer,  "  By  keeping  at  it — that's  how  !" 


LESSON  XXX. 

\n/chok  (ang'kur),  an  iron  to  j  Ha'ven  (ha'vn),  a  bay  ;  a  harbor. 

hold  a  ship  in  the  water.  Piv/OT,  a  pin  or  point  on  which 

Com/pASS  (kum'pass),  an  instru-  anything  turns. 

ment  for  determining  horizontal  Prop'er-ty,  a  peculiar  quality  ; 

directions.  a  possession. 

Glis'ten-ing  (glis/sn-ing),  glit-  j  Vis/i-ble,  that  may  be  seen. 

tering. 


THE  COMPASS. 


1.  A  person  does,  not  need  to  go  to  sea  in  ordei 
to  find  out  how  lost  and  helpless  a  sailor  would  be 
in  the  midst  of  the  ocean  if  he  had  no  compass. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  93 


A  few  summers  ago  I  passed  some  days  at  one  of 
the  Isles  of  Shoals,  a  small  rocky  group  in  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  ten  miles  from  the  coast  of  New 
Hampshire,  and  I  used  to  go  out  almost  every  day 
in  a  boat,  fishing  for  cod  and  haddock. 

2.  One  misty  morning,  I  remember,  I  started 
with  three  or  four  others  for  one  of  the  favorite 
fishing  places,  about  half  a  mile  off.  We  had  been 
there  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  had  caught  a  few 
very  fine  fish,  when  some  one,  looking  up,  cried 
out,  "  Where  is  the  island  ?" 

3.  We  all  looked  around,  but  the  island  was 
gone.  The  mist  had  changed  into  a  dense  fog, 
which  had  gathered  over  our  rocky  abode,  and 
hid  it  completely  from  our  view.  Nor  was  there 
any  object  in  sight,  except  another  of  the  island 
boats,  containing  a  fishing-party  like  ourselves. 
We  called  out  to  them,  "Where  is  the  island?" 
To  which  one  of  them  replied,  "  It  has  drifted  out 
to  sea."  Which,  in  fact,  we  might  have  done,  if 
we  had  been  a  little  farther  off. 

4.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  entirely  lost  we  seemed 
for  a  few  minutes.  Every  one  gave  his  opinion  as 
to  the  direction  in  which  the  island  was ;  but  as 
our  boat  had  been  floating  about  without  an  an- 
chor, and  had  consequently  changed  its  position 
every  moment,  it  was  all  guess-work,  and  we  might 
have  rowed  about  for  a  whole  day  without  finding  the 
object  of  our  search. 

5.  While  we  were  talking  the  matter  over,  we 
heard  the  large  bell  of  the  hotel  ring,  which  of 


94       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


course  told  us  the  way  we  were  to  go,  in  order 
to  reach  the  island.  So  we  kept  on  our  fish- 
ing for  two  or  three  hours  longer,  and  the  mist 
soon  rolled  away,  revealing  to  view  the  gray  rock, 
the  long  white  hotel,  the  ladies  walking  about, 
and  the  little  boys  fishing  for  perch  along  the 
shore. 

6.  We  afterward  learned  that  the  regular  fre- 
quenters of  this  island  considered  it  unsafe  to  go  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  shore  without  a  compass, 
and  always  took  a  pocket-compass  with  them  in 
case  a  sudden  fog  should  wrap  the  island  from 
their  sight. 

7.  Admirable  invention  I  I  often  wonder  that 
a  thing  so  valuable  can  be  so  small,  simple  and 
cheap.  It  is  nothing  but  a  needle,  a  pivot  and  a 
card,  which  you  can  buy  for  half  a  dollar,  and 
sarry  it  in  your  pocket,  or  dangle  it  at  the  end  of 
a  watch-chain.  Yet,  small  and  trifling  as  it  is,  a 
ship's  company  that  should  find  themselves  in  the 
middle  of  the  ocean  without  a  compass  would  con- 
sider it  a  great  favor  to  be  allowed  to  buy  one  for 
many  thousand  dollars. 

8.  But  stop ;  some  of  the  young  folks  who  live 
far  from  the  sea  coast,  and  have  never  seen  the 
magnetic  needle  quivering  in  its  box  under  its 
glass  lid,  may  not  know  exactly  what  a  compass 
is.  Well,  you  must  know  there  is  a  kind  of  iron 
ore,  of  a  dark  gray  color,  found  in  iron  mines  in 
many  parts  of  the  world,  which  is  called  loadstone, 
or  natural  magnet.    It  is  about  as  heavy  as  the 


THE  SEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


95 


common  iron  ore,  and  looks  like  it,  except  that  it 
is  a  little  more  glistening. 

9.  It  lias,  however,  most  wonderful  and  mys- 
terious properties.  One  is,  that  it  attracts  to  itself 
iron  and  other  metals.  Another  property  of  the 
magnet  is  equally  mysterious  and  far  more  import- 
ant to  man.  If  you  take  a  bar  of  iron  or  steel, 
and  rub  it  against  a  loadstone,  and  then  suspend 
it  carefully  in  the  middle  by  a  thread,  it  will 
always  point  north  and  south,  or  very  nearly  north 
and  south.  Xow,  a  compass  is  nothing  more  than 
a  small  steel  needle,  which,  having  been  rubbed 
against  a  magnet  in  a  certain  manner,  is  balanced 
with  great  nicety  upon  a  pivot,  and  the  whole  in- 
closed in  a  box. 

10.  That  needle  points  toward  the  jSorth  Star, 
and  serves  to  guide  the  mariner  over  the  trackless 
deep  when  neither  suu  nor  star  is  visible.  It 
does  not  tell  him  where  he  is,  but  it  tells  him  in 
what  direction  he  is  sailing,  and  it  tells  him,  with 
the  help  of  other  instruments,  in  what  direction  he 
must  sail  to  reach  the  haven  where  he  would  be. 


INVOCATION. 

Father  of  light  and  life!  thou  Good  Supreme! 

Oh,  teach  me  what  is  good!  teach  me  thyself! 

Save  me  from  folly,  vanity  and  vice, 

From  every  low  pursuit ;  and  feed  my  soul 

With  knowledge,  conscious  peace,  and  virtue  pure — 

Sacred,  substantial,  n^ver-fading  bliss! 


96        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XXXI. 

Fawn,  a  young  deer.  In'dian  (ind'yan  or  in/di-an),  a 
Felicia  Hemans,  author  of  this       native  of  India ;  an  aboriginal 

spirited  poem,  was  bom  in  Liver-       inhabitant  of  America. 

pool,  England,  1793,  died  1835.  Shiv'er,  to  quake  ;  to  tremble. 
Gai/lant,  brave ;  fine. 

THE  CAPTIVE'S  DREAM. 
I. 

I  dream  of  all  things  free ! 

Of  a  gallant,  gallant  bark 
That  sweeps  through  storm  and  sea 

Like  an  arrow  to  its  mark  ! 
Of  a  stag  that  o'er  the  hills 

Goes  bounding  in  his  glee ; 
Of  a  thousand  flashing  rills, 

Of  all  things  glad  and  free. 

II. 

I  dream  of  some  proud  bird, 

A  bright-eyed  mountain  king  : 
In  my  visions  I  have  heard 

The  rushing  of  his  wing ; 
I  follow  some  wild  river 

On  whose  breast  no  sail  may  be ; 
Dark  woods  around  it  shiver  : 

I  dream  of  all  things  free ; 

III. 

Of  a  happy  forest  child, 

With  the  fawns  and  flowers  at  play ; 
Of  an  Indian  'mid  the  wild, 

With  the  stars  to  guide  his  way  ; 
Of  a  chief  his  warriors  leading, 

Of  an  archer's  greenwood  tree ; 
My  heart  in  chains  is  bleeding, 

And  I  dream  of  all  things  free ! 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


9? 


LESSON  XXXII. 


Ac-cu-mu-la'tion,  the  act  of 
heaping  up. 

Ar'gu-ment,  a  reason  offered. 

Cope,  to  strive  ;  to  match. 

E-lec'tion,  choice. 

En-treat'y,  urgent  prayer. 

Ex-ten'u-ate,  to  lessen  ;  to  ex- 
cuse. 

For'mi-da-ble,  fearful. 
In-ev'i-ta-ble,  not  to  be  shunned. 


In-vin'ci-ble,  not  to  be  con- 
quered. 

Mae/tial  (-shal),  warlike. 

Pe-ti/tion,  a  formal  request. 

Rec-on-cil-i-a'tion,  renewal  of 
friendship. 

Re-mon'strance,  strong  advice 
against  a  thing. 

Riv'et,  to  fasten  with  rivets. 

Vig'i-lant  (vij'-),  watchful. 


Sound  the  h  in  humble  and  exhausted.  Pronounce  none,  nun  ;  were, 
wer  ;  been,  bin  ;  against,  aggnst;  parliament,  par'le-ment.  Do  not  say 
bruthren  for  br6th/ren  ;  fdrging  for  forging. 

SPEECH  OF  PATRICK  HENRY  * 

1.  I  ask,  gentlemen,  what  means  this  martial  ar- 
ray, if  its  purpose  be  not  to  force  us  to  submission  ? 
Can  gentlemen  assign  any  other  possible  motive 
for  it?  Has  Great  Britain  any  enemy  in  this 
quarter  of  the  world  to  call  for  all  this  accumula- 
tion of  navies  and  armies  ?  No,  sir,  she  has  none. 
They  are  meant  for  us ;  they  can  be  meant  for  no 
other ;  they  are  sent  over  to  bind  and  rivet  upon 
us  those  chains  which  the  British  ministry  have 
been  so  long  forging. 

2.  And  what  have  we  to  oppose  them  ?  Shall 
we  try  argument  ?  Sir,  we  have  been  trying  that 
for  the  last  ten  years.  Have  we  anything  new  to 
offer  upon  the  subject  ?    Nothing.   Shall  we  resort 

*  Patrick  Henry,  a  native  of  Virginia,  was  born  1736,  died  1799. 
The  speech  from  which  the  above  extract  is  made  was  delivered  March 
23,  1775,  in  the  Virginia  Convention. 
33 


98        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


to  entreaty  and  humble  supplication  ?  What  terms 
shall  we  find  which  have  not  been  already  ex- 
hausted? We  have  petitioned — we  have  remon- 
strated— we  have  supplicated — we  have  prostrated 
ourselves  before  the  throne,  and  have  implored  its 
interposition  to  arrest  the  tyrannical  hands  of  the 
ministry  and  parliament. 

3.  Our  petitions  have  been  slighted  ;  our  remon- 
strances have  produced  additional  violence  and 
insult ;  our  supplications  have  been  disregarded ; 
and  we  have  been  spurned  with  contempt  from  the 
foot  of  the  throne.  In  vain,  after  these  things, 
may  we  indulge  the  fond  hope  of  peace  and  recon- 
ciliation. There  is  no  longer  any  room  for  hope. 
If  we  wish  to  be  free,  we  must  fight !  I  repeat  it, 
sir,  we  must  fight.  An  appeal  to  arms  and  to  the 
God  of  hosts  is  all  that  is  left  us. 

4.  They  tell  us  that  we  are  weak,  unable  to  cope 
with  so  formidable  an  adversary.  But  when  shall 
we  be  stronger  ?  Will  it  be  the  next  week,  or  the 
next  year  ?  Will  it  be  when  we  are  totally  dis- 
armed, and  when  a  British  guard  shall  be  stationed 
in  every  house  ?  Sir,  we  are  not  weak,  if  we  make 
a  proper  use  of  those  means  in  our  power.  Three 
millions  of  people,  armed  in  the  holy  cause  of 
liberty,  and  in  such  a  country  as  that  which  we 
possess,  are  invincible  by  any  force  which  our 
enemy  can  send  against  us. 

5.  Besides,  sir,  we  shall  not  fight  our  battles 
alone.  There  is  a  just  Being  who  presides  over 
the  destinies  of  nations,  and  who  will  raise  up 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


99 


friends  to  fight  our  battles  for  us.  The  battle,  sir, 
is  not  to  the  strong  alone :  it  is  to  the  vigilant,  the 
active,  the  brave.  Besides,  sir,  we  have  no  election. 
If  we  were  base  enough  to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too 
late  to  retire  from  the  contest.  There  is  no  retreat 
but  in  submission  and  slavery. 

6.  Our  chains  are  forged.  Their  clanking  may 
be  heard  on  the  plains  of  Boston.  The  Avar  is 
inevitable — and  let  it  come !  I  repeat  it,  sir,  let  it 
come !  It  is  vain  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gen- 
tlemen may  cry,  Peace,  peace,  but  there  is  no 
peace.  The  war  is  actually  begun !  The  next 
gale  that  sweeps  from  the  North  will  bring  to  our 
ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms.  Our  brethren 
are  already  in  the  field. 

7.  Why  stand  we  here  idle  ?  What  is  it  that 
gentlemen  wish  ?  What  would  they  have  ?  Is 
life  so  dear,  or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to  be  purchased 
at  the  price  of  chains  and  slavery !  Forbid  it, 
Heaven !  I  know  not  what  course  others  may 
take,  but  as  for  me,  give  me  liberty  or  give  me 
death ! 


BE  BRAVE,  BE  JUST. 

Be  brave,  be  just ;  and,  when  your  country's  laws 

Call  you  to  witness  in  a  dubious  cause, 

Though  power  should  plant  his  rack  before  your  eye 

And,  frowning,  dictate  to  your  lips  the  lie, 

Think  it  a  crime  no  tears  can  e'er  efface 

To  purchase  safety  with  compliance  base, 

At  honor's  cost  a  feverish  span  extend, 

And  sacrifice  for  life  life's  only  end ! 


100        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XXXIII. 


An'i-mat-ed,  having  life. 

Cir-cum'eer-ence,  a  line  that 
hounds  the  space  of  a  circle. 

Di-am/e-ter,  distance  through 
the  center,  as  of  a  circle. 

Girth,  a  band  encircling. 

In-quir'ies,  questions. 

Learn'ed,  knowing ;  well  in- 
formed. 


Lev'el,  horizontal ;  flat. 
Sat'el-lite,  a  small  or  secondary 

planet ;  an  attendant. 
Sus'te-nance,  that  which  sustains 

life. 

Tel/e-scope,  an  instrument  for 
viewing  distant  objects. 

Twine/ling,  sparkling  at  inter- 
vals. 


THE  EAKTH  AND  THE  STARS. 

1.  It  seems  strange  that  it  is  not  a  level  sur- 
face which  we  stand  upon,  but  a  globe  shaped 
somewhat  like  an  orange.  The  firm  earth  beneath 
our  feet  is  nothing  else  than  a  large  ball — so  large 
that  the  greatest  extent  of  surface  which  the  eye 
can  see  at  one  time  appears  quite  flat. 

2.  To  assure  ourselves  that  the  earth  is  round, 
we  may,  on  a  clear  day,  look  out  from  some  high 


ground  upon  the  ocean,  when  we  shall  see  the  tops 
of  approaching  vessels  first  appear,  and  gradually 
the  lower  parts.  The  earth  is  about  eight  thousand 
miles  in  diameter  or  thickness,  so  that  its  circum- 
ference or  girth  is  twenty-five  thousand  miles. 

3.  Nearly  three-fourths  of  its  surface  is  covered 
with  water,  forming  seas  and  oceans.    The  re- 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  101 


mainder  is  very  irregular,  presenting  hills  and 
ranges  of  mountains,  with  valleys,  slopes  and 
plains.  The  land  is  covered  with  a  great  variety 
of  herbs  and  trees,  and  inhabited  by  many  kinds 
of  animals.  Races  of  mem  either  in  a  civilized  or 
savage  condition,  occupy  much  of  the  surface. 

4.  Although  the  earth  may  seem  very  large,  it 
is,  after  all,  only  the  third  of  a  set  or  system  of 
globes,  called  planets,  which  move  at  different  dis- 
tances in  space  round  the  sun ,  and  all  of  which  are 
supposed  to  be  occupied  by  living  beings  and  the 
things  necessary  for  their  sustenance. 

5.  The  moon  is  a  small  globe  which  moves  in 
like  manner  round  the  earth,  and  some  of  the 
other  planets  have  moons  or  satellites  moving 
round  them.  The  sun,  which  gives  light  and 
heat  to  the  planets,  is  a  body  of  vast  size — one 
million  four  hundred  thousand  times  larger  than 
the  earth. 

6.  The  earth  is  distant  from  the  sun  ninety-five 
millions  of  miles,  and  the  last,  or  most  distant  of 
the  planets  as  yet  discovered,  is  not  nearer  than 
three  thousand  six  hundred  millions  of  miles.  If 
there  were  a  road  from  the  earth  to  the  sun,  and  a 
man  were  to  ride  along  that  road  at  the  rate  of  a 
mile  in  the  minute,  which  was  the  speed  of  the 
swiftest  horse  ever  known,  he  would  require  a 
hundred  and  eighty  years,  or  two  long  lifetimes,  to 
perform  the  journey. 

7.  Great  as  is  the  space  occupied  by  the  sun  and 
planets,  it  is  but  a  small  portion  of  the  universe. 

33* 


102 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Every  little  star  which  is  seen  twinkling  in  the 
sky  is  a  sun  like  ours,  supposed  to  be  surrounded, 
too,  with  a  similar  system  of  planets,  which,  like 
our  earth,  are  the  residences  of  animated  creatures. 
Though  the  stars  seem  near  to  each  other,  they  are 
in  reality  millions  of  millions  of  miles  apart. 

8.  Nor  do  we  see  all.  When  we  look  through  a 
telescope,  which  is  an  instrument  for  bringing  with- 
in our  sight  objects  too  distant  to  be  seen  with  the 
naked  eye,  we  discover  many  stars,  and  we  always 
bring  more  into  view,  the  greater  power  we  give  the 
telescope.  The  number  of  the  stars  is  indeed  be- 
yond all  calculation. 

9.  What  is  here  stated  has  been  made  quite  cer- 
tain by  the  inquiries  of  learned  men,  but  we  have 
not  yet,  apparently,  comprehended  the  whole  of 
nature.  There  is  reason  for  supposing  that  the 
stars  which  we  see  by  means  of  the  naked  eye  and 
the  telescope  form  but  one  cluster  of  earths  moving 
in  space. 

10.  Far  beyond  the  bounds  of  that  vast  cluster, 
astronomers  have  perceived  similar  clusters  of 
worlds,  made  to  appear  small  by  being  so  far 
off  that  most  of  them  look  like  clouds  of  faint 
light  uj)on  the  dark  ground  of  the  sky.  Indeed, 
it  is  as  impossible  to  conceive  a  limit  to  space  as  to 
the  power  of  the  Creator. 


Questions. — What  is  the  shape  of  this  earth  on  which  we  live? 
How  can  we  assure  ourselves  that  the  earth  is  round?  What  do 
you  understand  by  the  diameter  of  a  globe?  By  the  circumfer- 
ence?   What  is  estimated  to  be  the  diameter  of  the  earth  in  miles? 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  103 


LESSON 

Aoquaint'ance,  fellowship. 

Clothes  (klothz  or  kloz),  cover- 
ings of  cloth. 

Coi/umn  (koFum),  a  perpendicu- 
lar row  of  words ;  a  pillar. 

I)ef-t-NI/tion,  explanation. 

Dif'fer-ent,  unlike ;  distinct. 

Grat-i-fi-ca'tion,  high  satisfac- 
tion. 

n 

"■L 


XXXIV. 

Hon'or-A-ble,  worthy  of  honor 

upright;  just;  fair. 
Host'ler  (hos'ler),  one  who  has 

the  care  of  horses. 
In'ter-est,  concern ;  advantage. 
Skate,  to  move  with  skates. 
So-eii/o-quy,  a  talking  to  one's 

self. 

Spoil,  to  injure ;  to  deface. 


THE  TWO  SOLILOQUIES. 

Soliloquy  of  the  Idle  Boy. 

1.  Dear  me!  what  a  trouble  it  is  to  learn  les- 
sons and  to  go  to  school !  Here  I  have  one,  two 
— no,  not  two,  but  a  column  and  a  half,  of  words 
with  meanings,  to  get  by  heart.  Well,  I  suppose 
I  must  begin  to  learn  them :  p-r-i-s  pris,  o-n  on, 


104      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


prison,  "a  place  where  people  are  confined."  Why 
couldn't  they  say  a  school,  at  once  ?  What  worse 
prison  can  there  be  than  that  ? 

2.  Well,  well ;  what  comes  next  ?  P-u-n  pun, 
i-s-h  ish,  punish.  I  know  the  meaning  of  that 
word  without  looking  at  the  book — I  hear  it  so 
often.  u  Charles,"  says  mother,  "  if  you  will  spoil 
your  clothes  in  this  manner,  I  shall  ask  your 
father  to  punish  you."  "  Charles,"  says  the  house- 
maid, "  you  deserve  to  be  punished  for  bringing 
in  so  much  mud  on  your  shoes." 

3.  Oh,  this  ugly  lesson !  I  never  shall  get  it ! 
P-l-e-a-s  pleas,  u-r-e  ure,  pleasure,  "  gratification  of 
mind."  Pooh !  I  can  give  a  much  better  defini- 
tion of  pleasure  than  that.  Pleasure  means  swing- 
ing on  gates,  eating  candy,  shooting  robins,  play- 
ing at  hide-and-seek,  flying  a  kite,  having  a  high 
time.  I  dare  say,  if  Charles  Knight  heard  me,  he 
would  say  pleasure  means  having  a  new  book. 

4.  Head,  read,  read — I  hate  reading.  When  I 
am  a  man,  I'll  never  open  a  book,  and  I'll  never 
send  my  children  to  school,  and  I'll  have  a  black 
horse — no,  it  shall  be  a  gray  one — and  I'll  ride  up 
and  down  the  street  all  day  long.  Oh  how  I  wish 
I  were  a  man  now ! 

Soliloquy  of  the  Idle  Boy  become  a  Man. 

5.  Yes,  I  am  a  man ;  and  woe  is  me  for  having 
been  such  a  little  fool  when  I  was  a  boy !  I  hated 
my  book,  and  took  more  pains  to  forget  my  lessons 
than  ever  I  did  to  learn  them.    What  a  dunce  J 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  105 


was,  even  over  my  spelling  !  Always  at  the  bot- 
tom of  my  class,  and  my  book  thumbed  and  soiled 
with  dog's-ears  and  with  nail-marks ! 

6.  "  Do,  Charles,  learn  your  lessons/'  said  my 
father,  "  or  you  will  be  fit  for  nothing  when  a 
man."  "Do,  dear  Charles,  give  your  mind  to 
your  books,  or  I  shall  be  ashamed  of  owning  you 
for  my  boy,"  said  my  poor  mother.  But,  no ;  I 
must  give  my  mind  only  to  playing  marbles,  whip- 
ping tops,  joking  with  the  hostlers,  stoning  the 
cats,  robbing  apple  trees  and  eating  cakes ;  and  a 
fine  scholar  these  things  made  of  me  ! 

7.  Now,  there  was  Charles  Knight :  he  liked 
play  well  enough,  and  could  skate  better,  swim 
farther  and  jump  higher  than  ever  I  could;  but 
he  liked  reading  better  still ;  and  he  learnt  more, 
out  of  school  hours,  than  ever  I  did  in  them.  He 
is  now,  like  myself,  a  man,  but  a  very  different 
kind  of  man  from  me.  He  has  made  friends 
among  the  wise,  the  honorable  and  the  learned ; 
I  can  not  be  admitted  to  their  acquaintance. 

8.  He  can  interest  a  whole  company  with  useful 
information ;  I  am  obliged  either  to  be  silent,  or  to 
talk  about  the  weather,  or  about  fast  horses.  I 
can  tell  you  about  the  last  great  race,  but  I  can 
not  write  a  letter  which  is  not  full  of  blunders.  I 
see  my  folly  now,  but  too  late.  I  have  no  time  to 
read,  for  I  must  work  for  my  daily  bread ;  and,  if 
I  had  time,  I  could  not  now  turn  my  reading  to 
profit.  Behold  the  bitter  fruits  of  idleness  in 
childhood ! 


106      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XXXV. 


Balm'y  ( bam 'y), like  balm  ;  sooth- 
ing; fragrant. 
Com'pass-es  (kum'-),  encircles. 
Con'se-crate,  to  make  sacred. 
Garnered,  stored  up  ;  gathered. 


In-ter-fuse/,  to  pour  between. 
'Neath,  a  contraction  of  beneath 

(th  vocal  as  in  thine). 
Re-strain',  to  withhold. 
Un-a-wares',  unexpectedly. 


Pronounce  tem'pests,  troubled  (truVbld),  heavens  (hev'vns),  'neatly 
plant  (the  a  as  in  care),  fierce,  dews,  natural,  while. 

THE  PLANTING  OF  THE  TREE. 

"  I  said  to  my  little  son,  who  was  watching,  with  tears,  a 
tree  he  had  planted,  '  Let  it  alone :  it  will  grow  while  you  are 
sleeping !'" 

I. 

"  Plant  it  safe,  thou  little  child ! 

Then  cease  watching  and  cease  weeping : 
Thou  hast  done  thy  utmost  part ; 
Leave  it  with  a  quiet  heart — 

It  will  grow  while  thou  art  sleeping." 

II. 

"  But  oh,  father !"  said  the  child, 
With  a  troubled  face,  close  creeping, 

"  How  can  I  but  think  and  grieve, 

When  the  fierce  winds  come  at  eve, 
And  snows  beat,  and  I  lie  sleeping?" 

III. 

Sternly  said  the  father,  then : 

"Who  art  thou,  child,  vainly  grieving? 

Canst  thou  send  the  balmy  dews, 

Or  the  rich  sap  interfuse, 

That  one  leaf  shall  burst  to  leafing  ? 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  107 


IV. 

"  Canst  thou  bid  the  heavens  restrain 
Natural  tempests  for  thy  praying? 

Canst  thou  bend  one  tender  shoot? 

Stay  the  growth  of  one  frail  root? 
Keep  one  blossom  from  decaying? 

V. 

"  Plant  it ;  consecrate  with  prayers  : 
It  is  safe  'neath  His  sky's  folding 
Who  the  whole  earth  compasses, 
Whether  we  watch  more  or  less — 
His  large  eye  all  things  beholding." 

VI. 

If  his  hope,  tear-sown,  that  child 
Garnered  safe  with  joyful  reaping, 

Know  I  not;  yet,  unawares, 

Oft  this  truth  gleams  through  my  prayers, 
"  It  will  grow  while  thou  art  sleeping  !'* 


LESSON  XXXVI, 


A-bid'ing,  lasting ;  permanent. 
Ai/leys,  narrow  walks. 
Bed'rid-den,  confined  to  bed. 
Des/tined,  doomed ;  appointed. 
Gen-er-a'tions,  races ;  families. 


In-hale7,  to  draw  into  the  lunga 

as  air ;  to  inspire. 
Per'ish-a-ble,  liable  to  perish. 
Prop/er-ty,  possession  ;  quality  ; 

that  which  is  one's  own. 


RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

1.  By  the  side  of  the  old  bridge  yonder  stands 
a  tree  which  I  call  mine.  Other  generations  be- 
fore me  have  dwelt  under  its  shade,  and  called  it 
theirs,  and  other  generations  after  me  will  do  the 
same.    And  yet  I  call  the  tree  mine.    A  bird  has 


108      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


built  a  nest  on  one  of  its  highest  branches,  but  I 
can  not  reach  it,  and  yet  I  call  the  tree  mine. 

2.  Mine  ?  There  is  scarcely  any  thing  which 
I  can  call  mine,  which  will  not  last  much  longer 
in  this  world  than  I  shall.  There  is  not  a  single 
button  of  my  coat  that  is  not  destined  to  outlast 
me  many  years.  I  remember  an  old  wood  near  to 
the  house  in  which  I  was  born,  and  not  far  from 


that  old  bridge  which  you  see.  What  days  have  J 
passed  under  the  thick  shade  of  that  wood,  and  in 
its  green  alleys ! 

3.  What  violets  have  I  gathered  in  it  in  tne 
month  of  April,  and  what  lilies  of  the  valley  in 
the  month  of  May !  What  strawberries,  black- 
berries and  nuts  I  have  eaten  in  it !  What  but- 
terflies T  have  chased  there !    What  nosts  T  have 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  109 


discovered  !  What  sweet  perfumes  have  I  inhaled ! 
What  verses  have  I  made  there  ! 

4.  How  often  have  I  gone  thither,  at  the  close 
of  day,  to  see  the  glorious  sun  set,  coloring  with 
red  and  gold  the  white  trunks  of  the  birch  trees 
around  me !  This  wood,  my  lad,  was  not  mine  ; 
it  belonged  to  an  old,  bed-ridden  miser,  who  had, 
perhaps,  never  been  in  it  in  his  life — and  yet  it 
belonged  to  him. 

5.  What,  then,  can  I  truly  call  mine — mine  by 
the  grace  of  our  heavenly  Father,  since  all  good 
gifts  must  come  first  from  him  f  The  stores  of 
learning  which  I  lay  up  in  my  mind ;  the  virtues 
with  which  I  adorn  my  character  ;  the  good  deeds 
which  I  perform ;  my  kindnesses  to  others,  my 
charities,  my  fidelity  to  the  right, — these  are  a  kind 
of  property  which  I  shall  never  lose. 

6.  I  shall  take  them  with  me  to  the  higher  life 
which  succeeds  this  life  of  the  body  ;  and  they  will 
there  be  to  me  one  of  the  sources  of  my  happiness 
and  my  joy.  Then,  my  dear  boy,  let  us  not  be  too 
fond  of  wealth  and  the  perishable  things  of  this 
life.  Let  us  rather  be  fond  of  those  abiding  things 
which  we  can  more  truly  call  ours ;  of  the  riches 
that  do  not  make  themselves  wings  and  fly  away. 

"Seek  Truth,  that  pure  celestial  Truth  whose  birth 
Was  iu  the  heaven  of  heavens ;  clear,  sacred,  shrined 

In  Reason's  light :  not  oft  she  visits  earth, 
But  her  majestic  form  the  willing  mind 

Through  faith  may  sometimes  see.    Give  her  thy  soul, 

■Nor  faint,  though  error's  surges  'gainst  thee  roll." 
34 


110     THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XXXVII. 


Con-ceived',  thought. 

Craft  (kraft),  skill ;  art ;  trade. 

Cbav/ing,  begging ;  desiring. 


Fain  (adv.).  gladly  ;  with  ioy. 
Re-tort',  a  censure  returned. 
Sec're-ta-ry,  clerk ;  scribe. 


THE  RETORT. 
I. 

One  day,  a  rich  man,  flushed  with  pride  and  wine — 

Sitting  with  guests  at  table,  all  quite  merry — 
Conceived  it  would  be  vastly  fine 

To  crack  a  joke  upon  his  secretary. 
"  Young  man,"  said  he,  "  by  what  art,  craft  or  trade 

Did  your  good  father  earn  his  livelihood  ?" 
"  He  was  a  saddler,  sir,"  the  young  man  said, 

"  And  in  his  line  was  always  reckoned  good." 

II. 

"  A  saddler,  eh  ?  and  had  you  stuffed  with  Greek, 
Instead  of  teaching  you  like  him  to  do ! 

And  pray,  sir,  why  did  not  your  father  make 
A  saddler,  too,  of  you  ?" 

At  this  each  flatterer,  as  in  duty  bound, 

The  joke  applauded — and  the  laugh  went  round. 

III. 

At  length  the  secretary,  bowing  low, 

Said  (craving  pardon  if  too  free  he  made), 

"  Sir,  by  your  leave,  I  fain  would  know 
Your  father's  trade  ?" 

"  My  father's  trade  f    Why,  sir,  but  that's  too  bad  ; 

My  father's  trade !    Why,  blockhead,  art  thou  mad  ? 

My  father,  sir,  was  never  brought  so  low : 

He  was  a  gentleman,  I'd  have  you  know." 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  Ill 


IV. 

"  Indeed  !  excuse  the  liberty  I  take  ; 

But,  if  your  story's  true, 
How  happened  it  your  father  did  not  make 

A  gentleman  of  you  ?" 


LESSON  XXXVIII. 

Ap-point'ed,  fixed;  set.  I  Dis-patch' or  De-spatch(  speed 

Chatham,  Lord,  a  famous  Eng-        haste  ;  a  message  quickly  sent. 

lish  statesman  and  orator,  born  j  For'ti-fy,  to  strengthen. 

1708,  died  1778.  I  Friy'o-lous,  slight ;  trifling. 

Cox-du'ctve,  leading  to;  aiding,  j  Lon-gey'i-ty  (-jev'-),  long  life. 
Con-trib'ute,  to  give  to  ;  to  help,  i  Prog/ress,  motion  forward. 


EAELY  RISING. 


1.  Few  things  contribute  so  much  to  preserve 
health  and  prolong  life  as  going  to  bed  early  and 
rising  early.  We  lose  vigor  by  lying  abed 
when  in  health  longer  than  for  necessary  sleep ; 


112       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


the  head  is  less  tranquil ;  the  body  is  less  disposed 
for  refreshing  slumber ;  appetite  and  digestion  are 
lessened. 

2.  Old  people,  examined  as  to  the  cause  of  lon- 
gevity, all  agree  that  they  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  going  to  bed  early  and  rising  early.  George 
the  Third  consulted  his  physicians,  separately,  as 
to  the  modes  of  life  conducive  to  health,  and  they 
all  agreed  as  to  the  importance  of  early  rising. 

3.  The  difference  of  rising  every  morning  at  six 
and  eight  in  the  course  of  forty  years  amounts  to 
upward  of  twenty-nine  thousand  hours,  or  three 
years,  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  days,  six  hours, 
so  that  it  is  just  the  same  as  if  ten  years  of  life 
were  to  be  added,  of  which  we  might  command 
eight  hours  every  day  for  the  cultivation  of  our 
minds  or  the  dispatch  of  business. 

4.  Lord  Chatham  urged  it  on  his  son  to  rise 
early.  "  I  never  thought,"  says  Daniel  Webster, 
"  that  Adam  had  much  the  advantage  of  us  from 
having  seen  the  world  while  it  was  new.  The 
manifestations  of  the  power  of  God,  like  his  mer- 
cies, are  '  new  every  morning'  and  fresh  every  mo- 
ment. We  see  as  fine  risings  of  the  sun  as  ever 
Adam  saw,  and  its  risings  are  as  much  a  miracle 
now  as  they  were  in  his  day,  and  I  think  a  good 
deal  more.  It  is  now  a  part  of  the  miracle  that 
for  ages  the  sun  has  come  to  his  appointed  time 
without  the  variation  of  the  millionth  part  of  a 
second."' 

5.  I  know  a  family  in  which  there  are  three 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  HEADER.  113 


young  sisters  who  took  nearly  the  whole  care  of 
their  father's  farm  when  he  was  absent  in  Europe 
some  years  ago.  They  would  rise  early,  and  while 
one  of  them  milked  the  cow,  the  others  would  be 
weeding  or  hoeinp:  the  soil  in  the  garden. 

6.  These  girls  then  formed  habits  which  have 
strengthened  their  constitutions,  and  have  made 
it  easy  for  them  to  take  a  proper  amount  of  exer- 
cise out  of  doors.  They  love  to  see  the  sun  rise, 
and  to  get  through  the  better  part  of  their  house- 
hold work  in  good  season.  Thus  they  find  ample 
leisure  for  walking,  for  reading  and  for  study,  at 
the  same  time  that  they  fortify  and  improve  their 
health. 


LESSON  XXXIX. 

A-chieyed',  performed.  Pro-dig'ious   (pro-dij'us),  won- 

Cen'ter  or  Cen'tre,  the  middle.  derful. 

Cir'cu-lar,  round  like  a  circle.  Sta'tion-a-ry,  fixed. 

Even  (e'vn),  the  evening.  |  Ve-loc/i-ty  (-los'-),  swiftness. 

Or'bit,  circular  path.  I  Vis'tas,  views  ;  prospects. 

Piston,  a  cylinder  which  works  J  Voy'age,  a  passage  by  sea. 

up  and  down  in  a  pump,  etc.  1  Wher-e'er',  contraction  of  where- 
Pon'der-ous,  heavy.                    '  ever. 

THE  EARTH'S  JOURNEY  ROUND  THE  SUN. 

1.  One,  two,  three,  four,  five  !  Does  the  reader 
know  that  while  he  has  been  counting  these  five 
beats,  five  seconds,  he  has  actually  been  conveyed 
through  space  a  distance  of  more  than  a  hundred 
miles  ?  Yet  so  it  is.  However  incredible  it  may 
seem,  no  fact  is  more  certain  than  that  the  earth  is 
constantly  on  the  wing,  flying  around  the  sun  with 
34* 


114      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


a  velocity  so  prodigious  that  for  every  breath  we 
draw  we  advance  on  our  way  forty  or  fifty  miles. 

2.  If,  when  passing  across  the  waters  in  a  steam- 
boat, we  can  awake  after  a  night's  repose  and  find 
ourselves  conducted  on  our  voyage  a  hundred 
miles,  we  exult  in  the  triumph  of  art  which  has 
moved  so  ponderous  a  body  as  a  steam-ship  over 
such  a  space  in  so  short  a  time,  and  so  quietly,  too, 
as  not  to  disturb  our  slumbers;  but,  with  a  motion 
vastly  more  quiet  and  uniform,  we  have,  in  the 
same  interval,  been  carried  along  with  the  earth  in 
its  orbit  more  than  half  a  million  of  miles. 

3.  In  the  case  of  the  steam-ship,  however  per- 
fect the  machinery  may  be,  Ave  still,  in  our  waking 
hours  at  least,  are  made  sensible  of  the  action  of 
the  forces  by  which  the  motion  is  maintained,  as 
the  roaring  of  the  fire,  the  beating  of  the  piston 
and  the  dashing  of  the  paddle-wheels ;  but  in  the 
more  perfect  machinery  which  carries  the  earth 
forward  on  its  grander  voyage,  no  sound  is  heard, 
nor  the  least  intimation  afforded  of  the  stupendous 
forces  by  which  this  motion  is  achieved. 

4.  The  distance  of  the  sun  from  the  earth  is 
about  ninety-five  millions  of  miles.  No  human 
mind  can  comprehend  fully  what  this  vast  distance 
means.  But  we  may  form  some  conception  of  it 
by  such  an  illustration  as  this :  A  ship  may  leave 
Liverpool  and  cross  the  Atlantic  to  New  York 
after  twenty  days'  steady  sail,  but  it  would  take 
that  ship,  moving  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour, 
more  than  a  thousand  years  to  reach  the  sun. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


115 


5.  And  yet,  at  this  vast  distance,  the  sun,  by  his 
power  of  attraction,  serves  as  the  great  regulatoi 
of  the  planetary  motions,  bending  them  continually 
from  the  straight  line  in  which  they  tend  to  move, 
and  compelling  them  to  circulate  around  him,  each 
at  nearly  a  uniform  distance,  and  all  in  perfect 
harmony.  Consider  the  wonderful  force  which  the 
sun  must  put  forth  to  bend  out  of  their  courses  into 
circular  orbits  such  a  number  of  planets,  some  of 
them  more  than  a  thousand  times  larger  than  the 
earth ! 

6.  Were  a  ship-of-war  under  full  sail,  we  can 
easily  imagine  what  a  force  it  would  require  to  turn 
her  from  her  course  by  a  rope  attached  to  her  bow, 
especially  were  it  required  that  the  force  should 
remain  stationary,  and  the  ship  be  so  held  as  to  be 
made  to  go  round  the  force  as  round  a  center. 
Somewhat  similar  to  this,  but  on  a  much  grander 
scale,  is  the  action  which  is  exerted  on  the  earth  in 
its  journey  round  the  sun. 

7.  By  an  invisible  influence  which  we  call  gravi- 
tation the  sun  turns  all  the  planets  out  of  their 
course,  and  bends  them  into  a  circular  orbit  round 
himself,  though  they  are  all  many  millions  of  times 
more  ponderous  than  the  ship,  and  are  moving 
many  thousand  times  more  swiftly. 

8.  The  heavenly  bodies  appear  small  to  the  eye 
of  an  inhabitant  of  this  earth  only  from  the  im- 
mensity of  their  distance.  When  we  talk  of  hun- 
dreds of  millions  of  miles,  it  is  not  to  be  listened 
to  as  incredible.    For  remember  that  we  are  talk- 


116        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


ing  of  those  bodies  which  are  scattered  over  the 
immensity  of  space,  and  that  space  knows  no  ter- 
mination. The  conception  is  great  and  difficult, 
but  the  truth  is  unquestionable. 


THOU  ART,  O  GOD. 
I. 

Thou  art,  O  God,  the  life  and  light 
Of  all  this  wondrous  world  we  see; 

Its  glow  by  day,  its  smile  by  night, 
Are  but  reflections  caught  from  thee: 

Where'er  we  turn  thy  glories  shine, 

And  all  things  fair  and  bright  are  thine! 

II. 

When  day,  with  farewell  beam,  delays 
Among  the  opening  clouds  of  even, 

And  v;e  can  almost  think  we  gaze 
Through  golden  vistas  into  heaven, 

Those  hues  that  mark  the  sun's  decline, 

So  soft,  so  radiant,  Lord,  are  thine. 

III. 

When  night,  with  wings  of  starry  gloom, 
O'ershadows  all  the  earth  and  skies, 

Like  some  dark,  beauteous  bird,  whose  plume 
Is  sparkling  with  a  thousand  eyes, 

That  sacred  gloom,  those  fires  divine, 

So  grand,  so  countless,  Lord,  are  thine. 

IV. 

When  youthful  spring  around  us  breathes, 
Thy  spirit  warms  her  fragrant  sigh  ; 

And  every  flower  the  summer  wreathes 
Is  born  beneath  that  kindling  eye: 

Where'er  we  turn  thy  glories  shine, 

And  all  things  fair  and  bright  are  thine ! 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  117 


LESSON  XL. 


THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  THE  BOATMAN. 

Philosopher.  Boatman,  I  am  afraid  you  do  not 
know  as  much  as  a  man  of  your  years  ought  to 
know.  For  instance,  AVhat  do  you  know  of 
algebra  ? 

Boatman.  Algebra,  sir?  I  never  heard  of  it 
before.    I  know  nothing  about  it. 

Phil.  Then  a  quarter  of  your  life  is  lost.  But 
perhaps  you  know  something  of  metaphysics  ? 

Boatman.  Met  a  what,  sir?  Ah,  you  mean  to 
ask  if  I  ever  took  physic  !  Not  much,  sir.  Physic 
isn't  in  my  line. 

Phil.  Excuse  me.  I  asked  if  you  knew  any- 
thing of  metaphysics,  the  science  which  relates  to 


US      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


the  ultimate  grounds  of  being,  as  distinguished 
from  its  phenomenal  modifications. 

Boatman.  I  never  heard  the  word  before,  sir ; 
my  father  was  a  fisherman,  and  he  took  me  to  sea 
with  him  as  soon  as  I  was  strong  enough  to  pull  a 
brickbat  in  at  the  chamber  window.  I  know 
nothing  of  meta — what  do  you  call  it  ? 

Phil.  If  you  know  nothing  of  metaphysics, 
boatman,  you  have  lost  another  quarter  of  your 
life. 

Boatman.  That's  a  hard  case,  isn't  it?  Two 
quarters  make  a  half. 

Phil.  But  perhaps  you  know  something  of  as- 
tronomy, boatman  ? 

Boatman.  Not  a  bit  of  it,  sir — not  a  bit  of  it ! 
I've  had  other  things  to  attend  to. 

Phil.  Then  you  have  lost  another  quarter  of 
your —  Eh  ?  What's  the  matter  with  the  boat  ? 
Is  it  sinking  ?  What  are  you  pulling  off  your 
coat  for  ? 

Boatman.  Don't  you  see  that  the  boat  has 
sprung  a  leak,  and  is  sinking  ? 

Phil.  Sinking  ?    Eh  ?    What  do  you  mean  ? 

Boatman.  You'll  find  out  pretty  soon.  Can  you 
swim  ? 

Phil.  Swim?  Of  course  I  can't  swim.  You 
don't  expect  a  philosopher  like  me  to  swim,  do 
you? 

Boatman.  Then  if  you  can't  swim,  the  whole  of 
your  life  is  lost ;  for  the  boat  is  going  to  the  bot- 
tom, and  no  mistake. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  119 


LESSO 

Ap-pro'pri-ate,  a.,  fit ;  proper. 

Ar'bi-tra-ry,  a.,  absolute;  gov- 
erned by  will  only. 

Clause  (klauz),  n.,  separate  mem- 
ber of  a  sentence. 

Couplet  (kftp'let),  n.,  two  verses. 

DiS-PERSEf  v .  L,  to  scatter  ;  to  dis- 
pel. 

In-vis'i-ble,  a.,  not  to  be  seen. 


N  XLI. 

Peerage,  n.,  the  class  of  peers. 

Per-fect'ed,  finished. 

Prominent,  a.,  standing  out. 

So-liic/i-TOUS  (-lis'-),  anxious. 

Spec/ial  (spesh'al),  a.,  designed 
for  a  particular  purpose. 

Stress,  n.,  force;  weight. 

Trag'e-dy  (traj'e-dy),  n.,  a  dra- 
matic poem  ;  a  fatal  event. 


Pronounce  Mirabeau,  Mir'a-bo  ;  pronunciation,  pro-nun-she-a'-shun. 
Do  not  say  empasis  for  em'pha-sis  (em' fa-sis) ;  spiled  for  spoiled. 
Re'al-ly  is  in  three  syllables.  Do  not  call  it  reely.  In  cer'tain,  cap'iain, 
moun'tain,  etc.,  ai  has  the  sound  of  short  I. 

HOW  TO  EEAD  WELL. 

1.  Pronunciation  is  the  utterance  of  words 
with  those  vowel  and  consonant  sounds,  and  that 
accent,  which  the  best  usage  has  established. 
Thus,  pronunciation  teaches  us  to  say  ve'he-ment 
instead  of  ve-he'-ment;  misfchiev-ous  instead  of 
mis-chiev'ous ;  and  to  sound  the  on  in  group  and 
soup  like  o  in  move,  instead  of  like  ou  in  house. 
The  correct  pronunciation  of  words  can  be  best 
learnt  by  consulting  the  dictionary. 

2.  Pronunciation  properly  includes  articulation 
"  In  just  articulation,"  says  Austin,  "  the  words 
are  not  hurried  over,  nor  precipitated  syllable  over 
syllable.  They  are  delivered  out  from  the  lips,  as 
beautiful  coins,  newly  issued  from  the  mint,  deeply 
and  accurately  impressed,  perfectly  finished,  neatly 
struck  by  the  proper  organs ;  distinct,  sharp,  in 
due  succession,  and  of  due  weight." 


120      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


3.  Inflections  of  the  voice  are  those  upward  and 
downward  slides  in  tone  by  which  we  express 
either  the  suspension  or  the  completion  of  the 
meaning  of  what  we  utter,  as  in  the  following  sen- 
tence :  "  As  trees  and  plants  come  from  seeds,  so  are 
you,  An 'tony,  the  seed  of  this  most  calamitous 
war."  Here  the  voice  slides  up  at  the  end  of  the 
first  clause,  at  seeds,  as  the  sense  is  not  perfected, 
and  slides  down  at  the  completion  of  the  sense,  at 
the  word  war,  where  the  sentence  ends. 

4.  Emphasis  is  that  peculiar  stress  which  we  lay 
upon  particular  words  to  bring  out  their  meaning 
or  importance  more  directly.  Thus,  in  the  follow- 
ing couplet  from  Pope,  there  is  an  example  of 
emphasis  : 

"  'Tis  hard  to  say  if  greater  want  of  skill 
Appear  in  writing  or  in  judging  ill." 

Here  the  words  writing  and  judging  are  opposed 
to  each  other,  and  are,  therefore,  the  emphatical 
words.  In  the  following  couplet,  by  CWper,  if 
you  properly  study  the  sense,  you  cannot  well  go 
astray  in  laying  the  proper  stress  on  the  proper 
words : 

"  A  modest,  sensible  and  well-bred  man 
Would  not  insult  me,  and  no  other  can." 

5.  Arbitrary  rules  are  of  little  value  in  teaching 
to  read.  If  you  fully  understand  and  feel  what 
you  are  reading,  if  you  can  pronounce  all  the 
words  correctly,  and  if  you  have  acquired  facility 


THE  HEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  121 


of  utterance  by  practice,  you  will  be  likely  to 
read  aright.  "Probably  not  a  single  instance," 
says  Archbishop  Whately,  "  could  be  found,  of 
any  one  who  lias  attained,  by  the  study  of  any 
system  of  instruction,  a  really  good  delivery ;  but 
there  are  many — probably  nearly  as  many  as  have 
fully  tried  the  experiment — who  have  by  this 
means  been  totally  spoiled." 

G.  In  familiar  discourse  we  rarely  fail  to  place 
the  emphasis  properly ;  and  this  is  because  we 
fully  understand  what  we  are  saying.  In  order, 
therefore,  to  give  the  right  emphasis  to  what  we 
read  aloud,  we  should  acquaint  ourselves  with  the 
meaning  and  construction  of  every  sentence ;  for 
emphasis  is,  as  it  were,  the  invisible  gesticulation 
of  the  mind  through  the  voice,  and  all  rules  must 
give  way  to  it. 

7.  Dispose  the  emphasis  aright  in  the  following 
sentence :  "  The  pleasures  of  the  imagination  are  not 
so  gross  as  those  of  sense,  nor  so  refined  as  those 
of  the  understanding."  In  this  example,  the  em- 
phatic words, gross  and  refined,  are  opposed  to  eacli 
other,  and  contrasted  with  sense  and  understanding 

"  He  raised  a  mortal  to  the  skies ; 
She  drew  an  angel  down/' 

Here  three  emphatic  words  in  the  first  line  are 
opposed  to  three  in  the  second. 

8.  In  the  following  passage,  from  Addison's 
tragedy  of  "  Cato,"  the  italicized  words  ought  to 
be  the  most  emphatic;  and  the  parenthetical  clause 

35 


122     THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


ought  to  be  spoken  in  a  lower  tone  of  voice,  and 
with  a  more  rapid  utterance,  than  the  principal 
sentence  ;  a  slight  pause,  both  before  and  after  the 
parenthesis,  being  appropriate. 

"  If  there 's  a  Power  above  us 
^And  that  there  is,  all  Nature  cries  aloud 
Through  all  her  works),  he  must  delight  in  virtue; 
And  that  which  he  delights  in  must  be  happy." 

9.  The  reply  of  Mirabeau  to  the  messenger  ol 
the  king,  who  had  ordered  the  French  National 
Assembly  to  disperse,  presents  two  emphatic  words, 
which  the  reader  who  comprehends  and  feels  the 
speech  will  not  be  slow  to  detect :  "  Go  say  to  those 
who  sent  you  that  we  are  here  by  the  power  of 
the  people,  and  that  we  will  not  be  driven  hence 
save  by  the  power  of  the  bayonet." 

10.  The  following  passage,  in  the  reply  of  Lord 
Thurlow  to  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  contains  at  least 
eight  prominently  emphatic  words  :  "  No  one  ven- 
erates the  Peerage  more  than  /  do  ;  but,  my  lords, 
I  must  say  that  the  Peerage  solicited  me — not  / 
the  Peerage.  Nay,  more — I  can  say,  and  will  say, 
that,  as  a  peer  of  Parliament,  as  Speaker  of  this 
right  honorable  house,  as  keeper  of  the  great  seal, 
as  guardian  of  his  majesty's  conscience,  as  Lord 
High  Chancellor  of  England — nay,  even  in  that 
character  alone  in  which  the  noble  duke  would 
think  it  an  affront  to  be  considered,  but  which 
character  none  can  deny  me — as  a  man — I  am,  at 
this  moment,  as  respectable — I  beg  leave  to  add,  as 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  123 


much  respected — as  the  proudest  peer  I  now  look 
down  upon." 

11.  Few  positive  rules  for  reading  can  be  laid 
down  to  which  many  unforeseen  exceptions  can- 
not be  taken.  Give  the  sense  of  what  you  read. 
Mind  is  the  thing.  Pauses  are  essential  only 
where  the  omission  would  obscure  the  sense.  The 
orator  who,  in  the  act  of  delivery,  is  studiously 
solicitous  about  parceling  his  words,  is  sure  to  leave 
the  best  part  of  his  work  undone.  He  delivers 
words,  not  thoughts.  Deliver  thoughts,  and  words 
will  take  care  enough  of  themselves,  providing 
always  that  you  have  acquired  the  proper  accuracy 
in  pronunciation. 


LESSON  XLII. 


Ad-her'in.g    (-here'-),  sticking 
fast. 

Ax'nu-al,  yearly. 
Ex-pan'sion,  spreading ;  opening. 
Gath'er-ing  (gath'-),  collecting. 
Herb  (erb  or  herb),  a  plant  that 

dies  to  the  root  every  year. 
Mold'y  or  Mould7!',  tilled  with 

mold. 


Per-en'ni-al,  lasting ;  constant. 

Proc/ess  (j>r6Ves),  course  ;  prog- 
ress ;  mode  of  operation. 

Prod'uce,  yield ;  product. 

Sta/ple,  the  thread  or  fiber  of 
wool,  cotton  or  flax  ;  chief  com- 
modity. 

Tri-an'gtj-lar  (-ang'-),  having 
three  angles. 


THE  COTTON  PLANT. 

1.  Of  the  four  raw  materials  which  supply 
clothing,  flax  is  said  to  have  belonged  originally  to 
Egypt ;  the  sheep,  which  furnishes  wool,  to  the 
mountain  ranges  of  Asia ;  the  silk-worm  to  China, 
and  the  cotton  plant  to  India  and  America. 


124       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 

2.  Although  cotton  was  not  generally  known 
among  the  nations  of  the  earth  until  at  a  much 
later  period  than  the  other  substances,  it  is  now 
raised  in  such  abundance  as  to  be  the  cheapest  of 
all  clothing.  From  its  great  resemblance  to  sheep's 
wool,  it  was  called  by  the  ancients  "  the  wool  of 
trees,"  and  although  it  differs  greatly  from  the 
animal  fleece,  the  term  is  still  retained.  The 
Germans  call  it  tree-wool,  and  the  French  give 
it  a  name  which  answers  to  the  English  term 
cotton  wool. 

3.  The  many  varieties  of  the  cotton-plant  have 
been  divided  into  herb -cotton,  shrub-cotton  and 
tree-oottony  according  to  the  mode  of  growth.  Of 
these  the  most  useful  is  the  herb-cotton,  which  is 
extensively  cultivated  in  the  southern  parts  of  the 
United  States  of  America,  in  India,  China  and 
other  warm  climates. 

4.  The  most  esteemed  variety  of  the  herb-cotton 
is  that  known  by  the  name  of  sea-island  cotton, 
which  is  of  long  staple,  its  fiber  being  much  longer 
than  that  of  any  other  description,  and  of  a  fine 
silky  texture.  It  is  an  annual  plant,  and  being 
found  to  thrive  in  the  low  sandy  islands  which  lie 
along  the  coast  from  Charleston  to  Savannah,  the 
cotton  hence  derives  its  name. 

5.  Herb-cotton  attains  a  height  of  from  eighteen 
to  twenty-four  inches.  Its  leaves  are  of  a  dark 
green  color.  The  blossom  expands  into  a  pale 
yellow  flower,  which  falling  off,  a  pointed  triangu- 
lar pod  appears.    This  gradually  increases  to  the 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  125 


size  of  a  large  filbert,  and  becomes  brown  as  tlie 
woolly  fruit  ripens. 

6.  The  expansion  of  the  wool  then  causes  the  pod 
to  burst,  when  there  appears  a  ball  of  snowy  white 
or  yellowish  down  adhering  to  the  seeds.  The 
appearance  of  a  cotton-field  while  the  pods  are 
opening  is  highly  interesting,  the  fine  dark  green 
of  the  leaf  contrasting  beautifully  with  the  brilliant 
white  of  the  cotton  suspended  from  the  pods,  and 
floating  to  and  fro  at  the  bidding  of  the  wind. 

7.  Shrub-cotton  grows  in  most  countries  where 
the  annual  herb-cotton  is  found.  In  the  West 
Indies  its  duration  is  about  two  or  three  years ;  in 
India,  Egypt  and  some  other  places  it  lasts  from 
six  to  ten  years.  In  the  hottest  countries  it'  is 
perennial,  and  furnishes  two  crops  a  year.  In 
cooler  climates  it  is  an  annual  plant.  In  appear- 
ance it  is  much  like  a  currant  bush. 

8.  Tree-cotton  grows  in  India,  China,  Egypt, 
and  in  the  interior  and  on  the  western  coast  of 
Africa,  and  in  some  parts  of  America.  It  attains 
a  height  of  from  twelve  to  twenty  feet. 

9.  Great  care  is  bestowed  in  America  upon  the 
cultivation  of  the  cotton  plant.  The  seed  is  sown 
by  hand  in  March,  April  or  May,  according  to 
the  season.  It  is  planted  in  rows  five  feet  asunder, 
and  in  holes  eighteen  inches  apart,  in  each  of  which 
several  seeds  are  placed.  As  the  plants  come  up, 
the  weakest  are  drawn  out,  only  two  or  three  being 
left  in  each  hole. 

10.  Good  cotton  cannot  be  produced  without 

* 


126        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


constant  care  and  attention  up  to  the  time  of 
flowering.  In  India,  the  mode  of  cultivation  is 
very  slovenly,  and  little  or  no  care  is  bestowed  on 
the  plant ;  the  consequence  of  which  is  that  the 
produce  is  greatly  inferior  to  that  of  the  United 
States. 

11.  The  operation  of  gathering  the  cotton  re- 
quires much  care.  The  usual  method  is  to  take 
away  the  seeds  and  cotton,  leaving  the  empty 
husks.  The  gathering  is  always  performed  in  fine 
weather,  after  the  morning  dew  has  disappeared, 
as  any  moisture  would  make  the  cotton  moldy, 
and  cause  the  oil  of  the  seed  to  spread  over  the 
wool.  The  cotton  is  more  completely  dried  by 
exposure  during  several  days  to  the  heat  of  the 
sun  or  of  stoves,  whereby  the  seeds  are  afterward 
more  easily  separated. 

12.  As  the  cotton  does  not  all  ripen  at  the  same 
time,  the  gatherers  have  to  go  over  the  same  plan- 
tation many  times.  If  it  is  not  gathered  soon  after 
the  pods  have  burst,  the  heat  of  the  sun  injures  its 
color,  or  it  may  be  blown  away  by  the  wind  or 
spoiled  by  the  rain  or  dew.  More  than  four-fifths 
of  the  cotton  at  present  used  in  Great  Britain  is 
from  the  United  States,  where  the  cotton  now  pro- 
duced exceeds  the  production  of  the  whole  world 
in  1770 ;  and  this  is  to  be  attributed  in  some  de- 
gree to  the  good  quality  of  American  cotton,  the 
low  price  of  land, and  the  improvements  introduced 
into  the  various  processes  of  planting,  cleaning 
and  packing. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  127 


LESSON  XLIII. 

Bird/ling,  a  little  bird.  j  Re-spond',  to  answer;  to  reply. 

Ex-ult'ing  (egz-),  rejoicing.         |  Teem'ing,  abounding  ;  full. 


1 'LEAS ANT  WEATHER. 
1. 


Thank  God  for  pleasant  weather !    Chant  it,  merry  rills, 
And  clap  your  hands  together,  ye  exulting  hills ! 
Thank  him,  teeming  valley,  thank  him,  fruitful  plain, 
For  the  golden  sunshine  and  the  silver  rain. 

II. 

Thank  God,  of  good  the  Giver;  shout  it,  sportive  breeze, 
"Respond,  0  tuneful  river,  to  the  nodding  trees  ; 


128       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Thank  him,  bird  and  birdling,  as  ye  grow  and  sing; 
Mingle  in  thanksgiving,  every  living  thing ! 

III. 

Thank  God  with  cheerful  spirit,  in  a  glow  of  love, 
For  what  we  here  inherit,  and  our  hopes  above. 
Universal  nature  revels  in  her  birth 
When  God,  in  pleasant  weather,  smiles  upon  the  earth. 


LESSON  XLIV, 


Bai/ead,  a  short  narrative  song. 
De-ter',  to  restrain  by  fear. 
Dic'tton,  language ;  style. 
FoOLs'cAP,a  kind  of  writing  paper. 
Main-tain7,  to  assert ;  to  uphold. 
Me'ter,  or  Me'tre,  measure  as 
applied  to  verse. 


Ped'ant,  one  who  makes  a  vain 
parade  of  his  knowledge. 

Phrase,  a  form  of  speech. 

Pla'gi-a-rist  (-je-),  one  whc 
passes-  off  another's  writings  as 
his  own. 

Sonnet,  a  poem  of  fourteen  lines. 


THE  QUARREL  OF  THE  AUTHORS. 

Enter  Bavius  and  Mevtus,  meeting. 

Bavius.  Sir,  I'm  proud  to  have  met  you.  Long 
have  I  known 
Your  productions — how  often  I've  wished  them 
my  own ! 

Your  verses  have  charms  nowhere  else  to  be 
found. 

Mevius.  In  yours  all  the  graces  of  diction  abound. 
Ba.  Your  phrases  are  neat,  your  style  charm- 
ingly light. 

Me.  There  are  touches  of  nature  in  all  that  you 
write. 


THE  XEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


129 


Ba.  Your  odes,  how  delightful !  how  tender  and 
true  ! 

What  dunce  would  compare  Pope  or  Pindar  to  you  ? 

Me.  Your  sono;s  have  a  noble  and  elegant  vein 
That  even  old  Horace  could  never  attain. 

Ba.  Can  any  thing  equal  your  love-ditties  rare  ? 

Me.  Can  aught  with  your  wonderful  sonnets 
compare  ? 

Ba.  If  the  public  could  estimate  half  of  your 
worth — 

Me.  If  merit  now  met  its  due  honors  on  earth — 
Ba.  You'd  roll  thro'  the  streets  in  a  carriage  of 
gold. 

Me.  Every  square  in  the  city  your  statue  would 
hold/ 

Now,  this  ballad  of  mine — your  opinion  upon  it, 
I  should  like  to — 

Ba.  Pray,  sir,  have  you  met  with  a  sonnet 
On  the  flag  of  our  country  ? 

Me.  A  sonnet  ?    Just  so. 
'Twas  read  at  a  party,  a  few  nights  ago. 

Ba.  Do  you  know  who's  the  author  ? 

Me.  I  know  not — nor  care  ; 
For  'tis  an  exceedingly  trifling  affair. 

Ba.  Yet  many  admire  it — or  so  they  tell  me. 

Me.  Xo  matter  for  that ;  it's  as  bad  as  can  be. 
And  could  you  but  read  it,  sir,  you'd  say  so  too. 

Ba.t  But — but,  sir,  I'm  sorry  to  differ  from  you ; 
Every  person  of  taste  its  merit  must  strike. 

Me.  May  the  Muses  deter  me  from  making  the 
like! 


130      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Ba.  I  maintain  that  a  better  the  world  cannot 

show ; 

For  I  am  the  author — yes,  I,  you  must  know. 
Me.  You? 
Ba.  I,  I,  sir,  I,  I ! 

Me.  Well,  I  wonder  indeed  how  that  came  to 
pass. 

Ba.  I  had  the  ill-luck  not  to  please  you,  alas ! 
Me.  Perhaps  there  was  something  distracted  my 
head ; 

Or  else  the  man  spoiled  it,  so  badly  he  read. 
But  here  is  my  ballad,  concerning  which  I — 

Ba.  Oh,  out  upon  ballads  !  their  day  is  gone  by  ; 
The  ballad  is  obsolete— out  of  date  quite. 

Me.  Yet,  even  now,  many  in  ballads  delight. 

Ba.  What  of  that,  sir  ?  I  think  them  decidedly 
flat. 

Me.  You  think  them !  Perhaps  they're  no 
worse,  sir,  for  that. 

Ba.  For  pedants,  indeed,  they  have  charms  be- 
yond measure. 

Me.  Then  how  can  it  be  they  afford  you  no 
pleasure  ? 

Ba.  You  give  others  qualities  found  but  in  you. 
Me.  You  call  others  names  that  are  justly  your 
due. 

Go,  blotter  of  foolscap  !  contemptible  creature  ! 
Ba.  Go,  scribbler  of  sonnets,  and  butcher  of 
meter ! 

Me.  Go,  impudent  plagiarist!  Blockhead,  get 
out! 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  131 


Ba.  Go,  rascal !    Be  careful !  mind  what  you're 
about ! 

Me.  Go,  go  !  strip  your  writings  of  each  borrowed 
plume ; 

Let  the  Greeks  and  the  Latins  your  plunder  re- 
sume. 

Ba.  Go,  you,  and  ask  pardon  of  Venus  and 
Bacchus, 

For  your  lame  imitations  of  witty  old  Flaccus.* 
Me.  Remember  your  book's  insignificant  sale. 
Ba.  Remember    your    bookseller    driven  to 

jail.  ' 
Me,  My  pen  shall  avenge  me — to  your  great 
disaster ! 

Ba.  And  mine  shall  inform  you,  sir,  who  is 

your  master. 
Me.  I  defy  you  in  verse,  English,  Latin  or 

Greek ! 

Ba.  You  shall  hear  from  me,  sir,  in  the  course 
of  the  week. 


NOW  IS  THE  TIME. 

The  bud  will  soon  become  a  flower,  the  flower  become  a 
seed  ; 

Then  seize,  O  youth!  the  present  hour — of  that  thou  hast 
most  need. 

Do  thy  best  always — do  it  now — for,  in  the  present  time, 
As  in  the  furrows  of  a  plow,  fall  seeds  of  good  or  crime. 


*  Quintus  Horatius  Flaccus,  01  Horace,  a  famous  Roman  poet,  born 
65  B.C.  Venus  was  the  goddess  of  love,  and  Bacchus  the  god  of  wine, 
in  the  ancient  mythology. 


132     THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


The  sun  and  rain  will  ripen  fast  each  seed  that  thou  hast 
sown, 

And  every  act  and  word  at  last  by  its  own  fruit  be  known ; 
And  soon  the  harvest  of  thy  toil  rejoicing  thou  shalt  reap, 
Or,  o'er  thy  wild,  neglected  soil,  go  forth  in  shame  to  weep. 


LESSO 

Ab'so-lute,  complete;  certain. 
Ad'ver-sa-ry,  an  enemy. 
Oon-ge'ni-al,  of  the  same  nature. 
Dis'so-lute,  loose ;  depraved. 
Fel/on,  one  guilty  of  a  capital 
crime. 

Fut/mi-nate,  to  thunder. 


N  XLV. 

Glad'i-a-tor,  a  sword-player. 
Horde,  a  wandering  band. 
Mis / c re- ant,  a  vile  wretch. 
Rap'ine,  act  of  plundering. 
Scheme  (skeme),  a  plot ;  a  plan. 
Trai'tor,  one  who  betrays  trust. 
Treacher- y,  breach  of  faith. 


CICERO  AGAINST  CATILINE. 

1.  At  length,  Romans,  we  are  rid  of  Catiline! 
We  have  driven  him  forth,  drunk  with  fury,  ful- 
minating mischief,  threatening  to  revisit  us  with 
fire  and  sword.  He  has  gone ;  he  has  fled ;  he 
has  escaped ;  he  has  broken  away.  No  longer 
within  the  very  walls  of  the  city  shall  he  plot  her 
ruin. 

2.  We  have  forced  him  from  secret  schemes 
into  open  rebellion.  The  bad  citizen  is  now  the 
avowed  traitor.  His  flight  is  the  confession  of  his 
treason.  Would  that  his  attendants  had  not  been 
so  few  !  Be  speedy,  ye  companions  of  his  dissolute 
pleasures — be  speedy,  and  you  may  overtake  him, 
before  night,  on  the  Aurelian  road. 

3.  Let  him  not  languish,  deprived  of  your 
society.    Haste  to  rejoin  the  congenial  crew  that 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  133 


compose  his  army — his  army,  I  say  ;  for  who  can 
doubt  that  the  army  under  Manlius  expect  Cati- 
line for  their  leader  ?  And  such  an  army  !  Out- 
casts from  honor,  and  fugitives  from  debt;  gam- 
blers and  felons ;  miscreants,  whose  dreams  are  of 
rapine,  murder  and  conflagration ! 

4.  Against  these  desperate  troops  of  your  adver- 
sary prepare,  O  Romans !  your  garrisons  and 
armies.  And  first,  to  that  maimed  and  battered 
gladiator  oppose  your  consuls  and  generals.  Next, 
against  that  miserable  outcast  horde  lead  forth  the 
strength  and  flower  of  all  Italy ! 

5.  On  the  one  side  chastity  contends ;  on  the 
other,  wantonness ;  here  purity,  there  pollution ; 
here  integrity,  there  treachery ;  here  piety,  there 
profanity ;  here  constancy,  there  rage ;  here  honesty, 
there  baseness ;  here  continence,  there  lust. 

6.  In  short,  equity,  temperance,  fortitude,  pru- 
dence, struggle  with  iniquity,  luxury,  cowardice, 
rashness — every  virtue  with  every  vice !  And, 
lastly,  the  contest  lies  between  well-grounded  hope 
and  absolute  despair.  In  such  a  conflict,  were 
every  human  aid  to  fail,  would  not  Providence 
empower  such  conspicuous  virtue  to  triumph  over 
such  complicated  vice  ? 


IMMORTALITY  OF  TRUTH. 

Truth,  crushed  to  earth,  shall  rise  again; 

The  eternal  years  of  God  are  hers; 
But  Error,  wounded,  writhes  with  pain, 

And  dies  among  her  worshipers. — Bryant. 

3fi 


134        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


At'tri-butes,  qualities;  proper- 
ties. 

Con-sum/mate,  complete ;  perfect. 
De-fense7  or  De-fence7,  protec- 
tion. 

Pa7tri-ot,  lover  of  one's  country. 


LESSON  XLVL 

Patron,  defender;  protector. 
Re-lin'quisii-ment  (-ling7-),  an 

abandonment. 
Sanguine  (sang7g\vin),  ardent. 
Scab/bard  (skab7-),  sheath  ;  case. 
Su-preme7,  highest  in  power. 


CHARACTER  OF  WASHINGTON. 

1.  This  eminent  person  is  presented  to  our 
observation  clothed  in  attributes  as  modest,  as  un- 
pretending, as  little  calculated  to  strike  or  to  as- 
tonish, as  if  he  had  passed  unknown  through  some 
secluded  region  of  private  life.  But  he  had  a 
judgment  sure  and  sound ;  a  steadiness  of  mind 
which  never  suffered  any  passion,  or  even  any 
feeling,  to  ruffle  its  calm  ;  a  strength  of  under- 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


135 


standing  which  worked  rather  than  forced  its 
way  through  all  obstacles,  removing  or  avoiding 
rather  than  overleaping  them. 

2.  This  is  the  consummate  glory  of  Washington : 
he  was  a  triumphant  warrior  where  the  most  san- 
guine had  a  right  to  despair ;  a  successful  ruler  in 
all  the  difficulties  of  a  course  wholly  untried  ;  but 
a  warrior  whose  sword  only  left  its  sheath  when 
the  first  law  of  our  nature  commanded  it  to  be 
drawn,  and  a  ruler  who,  having  tasted  of  supreme 
power,  gently  and  unostentatiously  desired  that 
the  cup  might  pass  from  him,  nor  would  suffer 
more  to  wet  his  lips  than  the  most  solemn  and 
sacred  duty  to  his  country  and  his  God  required. 

3.  To  his  latest  breath  did  this  great  patriot 
maintain  the  noble  character  of  a  captain  the 
patron  of  peace  and  a  statesman  the  friend  of 
justice.  Dying,  he  bequeathed  to  his  heirs  the 
sword  which  he  had  worn  in  the  war  for  liberty, 
and  charged  them  "  never  to  take  it  from  the 
scabbard  but  in  self-defense,  or  in  the  defense 
of  their  country  and  her  freedom,"  and  com- 
manded them  that,  "when  it  should  thus  be 
drawn,  they  should  never  sheathe  it,  nor  ever 
give  it  up,  but  j)refer  falling  with  it  in  their  hands 
to  the  relinquishment  thereof" — words  the  ma- 
jesty and  simple  eloquence  of  which  are  not  sur- 
passed in  the  oratory  of  Athens  and  Rome. 

4.  It  will  be  the  duty  of  the  historian  and  the 
sage,  in  all  ages,  to  let  no  occasion  pass  of  com- 
memorating this  illustrious  man,  and  until  time 


136       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


shall  be  no  more  will  a  test  of  the  progress  which 
our  race  has  made  in  wisdom  and  in  virtue  be 
derived  from  the  veneration  paid  to  the  immor- 
tal name  of  Washington  ! 


LESSOI 

E-the're-al,  airy ;  celestial. 

Firm'a-ment,  sky;  the  heavens. 

Gal-i-le'o,  a  great  astronomer 
and  philosopher,  was  born  at 
Pisa  (pronounced  Pee'za),  in 
Tuscany,  1564,  died  1642. 

Im-per-cep'ti-ble,  not  to  be  seen. 

In-di-vid'tj-al,  single ;  one. 

In'flu-ence,  power  of  directing. 

In'ter-vae,  space  between. 

In-ves'ti-gate,  to  examine. 


XLVII. 

Mut'u-al     (niuVyu-al),  inter- 
changed ;  common. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  born  in  Eng- 
land 1642,  died  1727. 

O-rig'i-nal  (rij7-),  source  ;  cause. 

Re/al,  actual ;  true ;  genuine. 

Ter-res'tri-al,  earthly;  worldly. 

Therefore  (theVfor),  for  that. 

TcAvard  '(to'ard),  in  the  direction  j 
of ;  with  direction  to. 

U-ni-vers'ae,  total ;  whole. 


WHAT  IS  GEAVITATION? 

1.  We  discover  in  nature  a  tendency  of  every 
portion  of  matter  toward  every  other.  This  ten- 
dency is  called  the  law  of  gravitation.  In  obe- 
dience to  this  power,  a  stone  falls  to  the  ground 
and  a  planet  revolves  around  the  sun.  The  for- 
mer is  an  example  of  what  we  call  gravity;  the 
latter  an  example  of  universal  gravitation. 

2.  The  laws  of  terrestrial  gravity  were  first  inves- 
tigated by  Galileo,  those  of  universal  gravitation 
by  Sir  Isaac  Newton.  Terrestrial  gravity  is  only 
an  individual  example  of  universal  gravitation, 
being  the  tendency  of  bodies  toward  the  center 
of  the  earth.    We  are  so  much  accustomed,  from 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


137 


our  earliest  years,  to  see  bodies  fall  to  the  earth, 
that  we  imagine  they  must  of  necessity  fall  "  down- 
ward but  when  we  reflect  that  the  earth  is  round, 
and  that  bodies  fall  toward  the  center  on  all  sides 
of  it — and  that,  of  course,  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
earth  they  fall  in  precisely  opposite  directions  and 
toward  each  other — we  perceive  that  there  must 
be  some  force  acting  to  produce  this  effect. 

3.  Every  motion  implies  some  force  which  pro- 
duces it,  and  the  fact  that  bodies  fall  toward  the 
earth  on  all  sides  of  it  leads  us  to  infer  that  that 
force,  whatever  it  is,  resides  m  the  earth  itself. 
We  therefore  call  it  attraction.  We  do  not,  how- 
ever, say  what  attraction  is,  but  what  it  does. 

4.  We  must  bear  in  mind,  also,  that  this  attrac- 
tion is  mutual — that  when  a  stone  falls  toward 
the  earth,  it  exerts  the  same  force  on  the  earth 
that  the  earth  exerts  on  the  stone ;  but  the  motion 
of  the  earth  toward  the  stone  is  as  much  less  than 
that  of  the  stone  toward  the  earth  as  its  quantity 
of  matter  is  greater,  and  therefore  its  motion  is 
quite  imperceptible. 

5.  But  although  we  are  compelled  to  acknowledge 
the  existence  of  such  a  force  as  gravity,  causing  a 
tendency  in  all  bodies  toward  each  other,  yet  we 
know  nothing  of  its  nature,  nor  can  we  conceive 
by  what  medium  bodies  at  such  a  distance  as  the 
sun  and  the  earth  exercise  this  influence  on  each 
other.  Still,  we  know  that  it  is  this  which,  acting 
across  an  interval  of  ninety-five  millions,  of  miles, 
holds  the  earth  8«  surely  in  its  orbit  as  if  it  were 

26  * 


138        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  EOURTH  READER. 


connected  by  a  chain  to  the  sun,  and  the  same  force 
holds  all  the  other  planets  in  their  orbits. 

6.  It  is  a  law  of  nature  that  a  body  when  at 
rest  remains  so,  unless  some  force  puts  it  in  motion, 
but  when  once  in  motion  it  will  continue  to  move 
for  ever,  unless  something  stops  it.  When  a  ball 
is  rolled  on  the  ground,  the  friction  of  the  earth 
and  the  resistance  of  the  air  soon  stop  its  motion ; 
when  rolled  on  smooth  ice  it  will  go  much  farther, 
because  the  ice  opposes  much  less  resistance  than 
the  ground,  and  weve  there  no  impediment  to  its 
motion,  it  would  continue  to  move  for  ever. 

7.  The  earth,  and  all  the  other  planets  which 
revolve  around  the  sun  as  their  common  center, 
are  actually  in  this  condition.  They  would  fly 
off  into  space,  and  continue  to  move  for  ever  in  a 
straight  line ;  but,  held  in  check,  in  obedience  to 
the  laws  of  Him  who  created  them  and  gave  them 
motion,  they  circulate  in  their  appointed  orbits. 

"  The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 

With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky, 

And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 

Their  great  Original  proclaim. 

The  unwearied  sun,  from  day  to  day, 

Does  his  Creator's  power  display, 

And  publishes  to  every  land 

The  work  of  an  almighty  Hand. 
"  Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 

The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale, 

And  nightly  to  the  listening  earth 

Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth ; 

While  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn, 

And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  139 


Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 

And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

"  What  though  in  solemn  silence  all 
Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball  ? 
What  though  no  real  voice,  nor  sound, 
Amid  their  radiant  orbs  be  found? 
In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice, 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice  ; 
For  ever  singing,  as  they  shine, 

'  The  Hand  that  made  us  is  divine.'  " 


ADDISON. 

Joseph  Addison,  the  author  of  the  foregcmg 
verses,  was  born  in  England  in  1672  and  died  in 
1719.  Of  the  verses  themselves  the  late  Mr. 
Thackeray  remarks :  "  Who  can  listen  to  their 
sacred  music  without  love  and  awe  ?  When  this 
man  looks  up  to  the  heaven  which  shines  over  us 
all,  I  can.  hardly  fancy  a  human  face  lighted  up 
with  a  more  serene  rapture,  a  human  intellect 
thrilling  with  a  purer  love  and  adoration,  than 
Joseph  Addison's. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  those  verses  shine  like  the 
stars.  They  shine  out  of  a  great  deep  calm.  When 
he  turns  to  heaven,  a  Sabbath  comes  over  that 
man's  mind,  and  his  face  lights  up  from  it  with 
a  glory  of  thanks  and  prayer.  His  sense  of  re- 
ligion stirs  through  his  whole  being.  His  was  a 
life  prosperous  and  beautiful,  a  calm  death,  an  im- 
mense fame,  and  affection  afterward  for  his  happy 
and  spotless  name." 


140         THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XLVIII. 


Bru'in,  a  name  given  to  the  bear 
(from  the  French  brun,  brown.) 

Cou'gar  (koo'gar),  a  panther. 

Crit/i-cis  ing  (-siz-),  judging  as 
a  critic. 

Crouch  (krowch),  to  bend  low. 
Eo-cen'tric,  irregular ;  odd. 
Feint  (Hint),  a  mock  attack. 
Gra-tu'i-tous,  given  witliout  an 

equivalent. 
Man'di-bles  (-biz),  lower  jaws. 
Myr/i-au  (mil/),  ten  thousand. 


O-RANG'-OU-TANG'    (oo-tang'),  a 

large  monkey. 
Quadrille  (ka-driF),  a  dance  of 

sets  of  dancers,  four  in  a  set. 
Som/er-set  (sum7-),  a  leap  in 

which  the  heels  are  thrown  over 

the  head. 
Strewn  (stroon  or  stron),  scat- 
tered loosely. 
Wrestle  (reVsl),  to  strive,  as 

two  persons,  by  trying  who  shall 

throw  the  other  down. 


FUN  AMONG  ANIM  >  LS. 


1.  Fun  is  not  confined  to  boys  and  girls.  Some 
of  the  smallest  insects,  after  their  ordinary  toils, 
enjoy  themselves  in  some  kind  of  sport.  Tbey 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  141 


run  races,  wrestle,  and,  out  of  fun,  carry  each  other 
on  their  backs  much  in  the  same  way  as  boys  per- 
form a  similar  act.  A  small  species  of  ant,  in  the 
intervals  of  their  industry,  have  been  seen  doing 
this,  the  rider  holding  with  his  mandibles  on  to  the 
neck  of  his  bearer,  and  embracing  it  closely  with 
his  legs.  After  being  carried  a  certain  length,  the 
rider  would  be  carefully  set  down. 

2.  "  It  is  a  happy  world,  after  all,"  says  Paley. 
"  The  air,  the  earth,  the  water,  teem  with  delighted 
existence.  In  a  spring  noon  or  summer  evening, 
on  whichever  side  I  turn  my  eyes,  myriads  of 
happy  beings  crowd  upon  my  view.  The  insect 
youth  are  on  the  wing.  Swarms  of  new-born  flies 
are  trying  their  pillions  in  the  air.  Their  sportive 
motions,  their  wanton  mazes,  their  gratuitous  ac- 
tivity, their  continual  change  of  place,  without  use 
or  purpose,  testify  their  joy  and  the  exultation 
which  they  feel  in  their  lately-discovered  facul- 
ties." 

3.  Small  birds  chase  each  other  about  in  play. 
The  trumpeter-bird  hops  about  in  the  most  eccen- 
tric manner  on  one  leg,  and  throws  somersets.  The 
crane  expands  its  wings,  runs  round  in  circles, 
leaps,  and  throwing  little  stones  and  pieces  of 
wood  in  the  air,  endeavors  to  catch  them  again, 
or  pretends  to  avoid  them,  as  if  afraid.  Water- 
birds,  such  as  ducks  and  geese,  dive  after  each 
other,  and  cleave  the  surface  of  the  water,  with 
out-stretched  neck  and  flapping  wings,  throwing 
an  abundant  spray  around. 


142       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


4.  There  is  a  story  told  of  a  tame  magpie  which 
was  seen  busily  engaged  in  a  garden  gathering 
pebbles,  and,  wTith  much  solemnity  and  a  studied 
air,  dropping  them  into  a  hole  about  eighteen  inches 
deep,  made  to  receive  a  post.  After  dropping 
each  stone  it  cried  "  Currack !"  triumphantly,  and 
set  off  for  another.  On  examining  the  spot,  a  poor 
toad  was  found  in  the  hole,  which  the  magpie  was 
stoning  for  his  amusement. 

5.  The  mocking-bird  seems  to  take  delight  in 
imitating  the  noises  made  by  other  animals,  and 
by  man  himself.  It  whistles  for  the  dog ;  Csesar 
starts  up,  wags  his  tail,  and  runs  to  meet  his 
master.  It  squeaks  out  like  a  hurt  chicken,  and 
the  hen  hurries  about  wTith  hanging  wings  and 
bristled  feathers,  clucking  to  protect  her  injured 
brood.  The  barking  of  the  dog,  the  mewing  of 
the  cat,  the  creaking  of  a  passing  wheelbarrow, 
are  all  imitated  by  this  little  creature  with  sur- 
prising  truth  and  rapidity. 

6.  Deer  often  engage  in  a  sham  battle,  or  a  trial 
of  strength,  by  twisting  their  horns  together  and 
pushing  for  the  mastery.  All  animals  that  pretend 
violence  in  their  j:>lay  stop  short  of  exercising  it ; 
the  aog  takes  the  greatest  precaution  not  to  injure 
by  his  bite,  and  the  orang-outang,  in  wrestling 
with  his  keeper,  pretends  to  throw  him,  and  makes 
a  feint  of  biting  him. 

7.  Some  animals  carry  out  in  their  play  the  sem- 
blance of  catching  their  prey :  young  cats,  for 
instance,  leap  after  every  small  and  moving  object, 


THE  SEW  AMERICAS  FOURTH  READER.  143 


even  to  the  leave?  strewn  by  the  autumn  wind ; 
they  crouch  and  steal  forward,  ready  for  a  spring, 
the  body  quivering  and  the  tail  vibrating  with 
emotion.  They  bound  on  the  moving  leaf,  and 
again  spring  forward  to  another.  Young  tigers 
and  cougars  have  been  found  playing  with  round 
substances  as  kittens  do  with  a  ball  of  yarn. 

8.  The  kitten  is  familiar  to  us  all  as  the  very 
embodiment  of  playfulness.  A  young  friend  of 
mine  has  a  kitten  she  calls  Dot.  It  would  surprise 
you  to  see  to  how  many  liberties,  short  of  being 
tied  in  a  bow-knot,  Dot  will  submit.  With  a  doll's 
cap  on  her  head  she  cuts  a  very  comical  figure. 
Her  mistress  rules  her  by  tenderness :  she  takes 
care  never  to  hurt  her. 

9.  The  California  Indians  say  that  the  cubs  of 
the  bear  go  through  all  sorts  of  queer  little  antics, 
very  often  apparently  for  the  sole  purpose  of  dis- 
tressing their  anxious  parents.  The  grown-up 
bears  engage  in  dances,  and  the  places  where 
such  sports  have  been  held  are  detected  by  the 
Indians  from  the  manner  in  which  the  ground 
is  beaten. 

10.  Sometimes  a  bear  will  dance  by  himself, 
while  others  squat  down  and  look  on,  as  if  criticising 
the  performance.  At  other  times  a  whole  party 
of  bears  will  join  in  a  sort  of  quadrille.  The  cus- 
tom proves  that  Bruin,  though  his  exterior  is 
rough  and  his  ordinary  deportment  by  no  means 
graceful,  knows  how  to  relax  among  his  equals,  and 
is  not  indifferent  to  social  amusement. 


144        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  XLIX. 


A-chiev e/ment,  deed;  exploit. 
Ai/ien  (ale'yen),  a  foreigner. 
Blenched,  shrank ;  started  back. 
Con-fed'er-ate,  an  ally. 
Im-pos'ture,  deception;  cheat. 


In-flex-i-bii/i-ty,  firmness. 
Le'gion,  a  body  of  soldiers. 
Phai/anx,  a  close  body  of  troops. 
Stark,  a.,  stiff ;  ad.,  wholly. 
Vo-cap/u-la-ry,  a  list  of  words. 


Pronounce  Assaye  (in  Hin-dos-tan^is-s^t/e;  Vimieira  (in  Portugal), 
Ve-may' e-rah  ;  Badajos  (in  Spain),  Bad-a-hos;  Albuera  (in  Spain),  Ah 
boo-a'ra  ;  Toulouse  (in  France),  Too-loozf. 

The  following  eloquent  remarks  were  made  by  Richard  Lalor  Shiel 
in  the  British  Parliament  in  1837,  in  reply  to  Lord  Lyndhurst,  who  had 
spoken  of  the  Irish  as  "aliens."  Lyndhurst,  born  in  Boston,  Mass., 
1772,  died  in  England,  1863.  Shiel,  born  in  Dublin,  Ireland,  1791, 
died  1851. 

SHIET/S  REPLY  TO  LORD  LYNDHURST. 

1. 1  should  be  surprised,  indeed,  if,  while  you  are 
doing  us  wrong,  you  did  not  profess  your  solicitude 
to  do  us  justice.  Englishmen  were  never  wanting 
in  such  protestations.  There  is,  however,  one  ex- 
ception. There  is  a  man  of  great  abilities — not  a 
member  of  this  House,  but  whose  talents  and  bold- 
ness have  placed  him  in  the  topmost  place  in  his 
party — who  has  been  heard  to  speak  of  the  Irish 
as  "  aliens."  Disdaining  all  imposture,  and  aban- 
doning all  reserve,  he  distinctly  and  audaciously 
tells  the  Irish  people  that  they  are  not  entitled  to 
the  same  privileges  as  Englishmen,  that  they  are 
"  aliens."  Aliens  ?  Good  heavens !  Was  Arthur, 
Duke  of  Wellington,  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and 
did  he  not  start  up  and  exclaim,  "  Hold  !  I  have 
seen  the  aliens  do  their  duty  ?" 

2.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  is  not  a  man  of  an 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  145 


excitable  temperament.  His  mind  is  of  a  cast  too 
martial  to  be  easily  moved,  but  notwithstanding 
his  habitual  inflexibility,  I  can  not  help  thinking 
that  when  he  heard  his  countrymen  designated  by 
a  phrase  as  offensive  as  the  abundant  vocabulary 
of  his  eloquent  confederate  could  supply, — I  cau 
not  help  thinking  that  he  ought  to  have  recollected 
the  many  fields  of  fight  in  which  we  have  been 
contributors  to  his  renown. 

3.  The  "  battles,  sieges,  fortunes,  that  he  has 
passed,"  ought  to  have  come  back  upon  him.  He 
ought  to  have  remembered  that,  from  the  earliest 
achievement  in  which  he  displayed  that  military 
genius  which  has  placed  him  foremost  in  the  annals 
of  modern  warfare,  down  to  that  last  and  surpassing 
combat  which  has  made  his  name  imperishable — 
from  Assaye  to  Waterloo — the  Irish  soldiers,  with 
whom  your  armies  are  filled,  were  the  inseparable 
auxiliaries  to  the  glory  with  which  his  unparalleled 
successes  have  been  crowned. 

4.  Whose  were  the  arms  that  drove  your  bayo- 
nets at  Vimieira  through  the  phalanxes  that  never 
reeled  in  the  shock  of  war  before?  What  des- 
perate valor  climbed  the  steeps  and  filled  the  moats 
of  Badajos?  All,  all  his  victories  should  have 
rushed  and  crowded  back  upon  his  memory ; 
Vimieira,  Badajos,  Salamanca,  Albuera,  Toulouse, 
and,  last  of  all,*  the  greatest — 

*  The  tone  of  suspension  should  be  given  at  greatest,  the  dash  indi- 
cating a  sudden  break  in  the  speaker's  remarks.    The  battle  he  there 
refers  to  is  "Waterloo,  fought  against  Napoleon,  June  18,  1815.  The 
37 


146        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


5.  Tell  me,  for  you  were  there — I  appeal  to  the 
gallant  soldier  before  me,  who  bears,  I  know,  a 
generous  heart  in  an  intrepid  breast — tell  me,  for 
you  must  needs  remember,  on  that  day,  when  the 
destinies  of  mankind  were  trembling  in  the  balance, 
while  death  fell  in  showers ;  when  the  artillery  of 
France,  leveled  with  the  precision  of  the  most 
deadly  science,  played  upon  them ;  when  her 
legions,  incited  by  the  voice,  inspired  by  the 
example,  of  their  mighty  leader,  rushed  again 
and  again  to  the  onset, — tell  me  if,  for  an  instant, 
when  to  hesitate  for  an  instant  was  to  be  lost,  the 
"  aliens  "  blenched  ! 

6.  Aud  when,  at  length,  the  moment  for  the  last 
decisive  movement  had  arrived ;  when  the  valor, 
so  long  wisely  checked,  was  at  last  let  loose  ;  when, 
with  words  familiar  but  immortal,  the  great  cap- 
tain commanded  the  great  assault, — tell  me  if 
Catholic  Ireland,  with  less  heroic  valor  than  the 
natives  of  your  own  glorious  isle,  precipitated 
herself  upon  the  foe  !  The  blood  of  England, 
Scotland,  Ireland,  flowed  in  the  same  stream, 
drenched  the  same  field. 

7.  When  the  chill  morning  dawned,  their  dead 
lay  cold  and  stark  together.  In  the  same  deep  pit 
their  bodies  were  deposited.  The  green  corn  of 
spring  is  now  breaking  from  their  commingled 

opposing  forces  were  commanded  by  Wellington,  whose  "  words,"  to 
which  the  orator  alludes,  were,  "  Up,  Guards,  and  at  them !"  Sir 
Henry  Ilardinge  was  the  "gallant  soldier"  to  whom  personally  Shiel 
appealed  in  the  beautiful  transition  he  made  from  the  simple  reference 
to  Waterloo  in  the  one  word  greatest. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  147 


dust ;  the  dew  falls  from  heaven  upon  their  union 
in  the  grave  !  Partakers  in  every  peril,  in  the 
glory  shall  we  not  be  permitted  to  participate? 
And  shall  we  be  told,  as  a  requital,  that  we  are 
estranged  from  the  noble  country  for  whose  salva- 
tion our  life-blood  was  poured  out  ? 


LESSON  L. 


Ar-PALL/(-pal/),to  terrify ;  daunt.  |  Pelf, 


A-tone',  to  make  amends. 
De-spond7,  to  despair ;  to  give  up. 
Di-vert'  to  turn  aside  :  to  amuse. 


y  ;  gain ;  wealth. 


Rec're-ant,  cowardly;  craven. 
Spell,  charm ;  incantation. 
Un-daunt'ed  (-diint-),  fearless. 


UP,  FAINT  HEART,  UP! 


L 

Up,  faint  heart,  up  !  immortal  life  is  lodged  within  thy  frame ; 
Then  let  no  recreant  thought  or  deed  divert  thy  upward  aim. 


148      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Shall  earth's  brief  ills  appall  the  brave  ?  Shall  manly  hearts 
despond  ? 

Tho'  darkly  now  the  cloud  may  frown,  the  blue  heaven  sleeps 
beyond ! 

II. 

Dost  inly  pine  at  others'  gold  ?— gay  trappings  ?— dainty  fare  ? 
Dost  envy  Power  or  titled  Rank  the  homage  that  they  share? 
Tho'  endless  wealth  were  thine,  with  lands  stretching  from 
pole  to  pole, 

Could  all  earth's  power  or  pelf  atone  for  poverty  of  soul  ? 

III. 

In  faith  the  patient  spirit  finds  a  world-defying  spell ; 
Knowing  that,  come  to  it  what  may,  God  doeth  all  things  well. 
Thus  'mid  the  roughest  ills  of  life  a  blest  repose  it  keeps, 
Firm  as  the  beacon  'mid  the  foam  the  tempest  round  it  heaps. 

IV. 

Then,  brother,  trust  the  immortal  life  glowing  within  thy 
frame ; 

Never  let  recreant  thought  or  deed  divert  thy  upward  aim. 
Undaunted  meet  earth's  fleeting  ills — rise,  and  no  more  de- 
spond ! 

Up,  faint  heart,  up  !  the  blackest  cloud  but  veils  the  heaven 
beyond ! 


THE  KAINBOW. 

My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 

A  rainbow  in  the  sky; 
So  was  it  when  my  life  began ; 
So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man ; 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old, 

Or  let  me  die! 
The  child  is  father  of  the  man, 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety. 

Wordsworth. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  149 


LESSON  LI. 

A-L-ter'xate-ly,  by  turns.  Fi'brous,  containing  fibers. 

Brittle,  easily  broken ;  frail.  J  Fragile  (fraj'il),  brittle;  weak 

Dam'ask,  linen  woven  with  fig-  ;  Thebes  (theebz),  once  a  famous 

ures.    (So  called  from  the  city  i      city,  the  capital  of  Egypt,  on 

of  Damascus.)  the  Xile. 

THE  FLAX  PLANT  AND  LINEN. 

1.  The  flax  plant,  which  affords  the  raw  mate- 
rial of  the^  linen  manufacture,  is  a  graceful  annual, 
often  found  growing  wild.  The  stalk  is  slender, 
about  two  feet  high,  and  has  small  pointed  leaves 
placed  alternately  on  the  stem.  It  bears  exceed- 
ingly delicate  pale  blue  flowers ;  but  these  fragile 
blossoms  soon  fade  and  fall  away. 

2.  The  flax  plant  seems  to  thrive  best  in  a  moist 
climate.  It  is  largely  and  successfully  cultivated 
in  the  north  of  Ireland.  The  seeds  are  sown  in 
March ;  and  the  plants,  when  the  seeds  are  ripe  in 
autumn,  are  pulled  up  by  the  roots.  Of  the  seeds 
linseed  oil  is  made ;  and  if  the  object  be  to  save 
the  seeds,  the  plants  are  spread  out  in  the  sun  to 
dry,  but  if  the  fibrous  part  be  the  chief  object,  the 
plants  are  tied  up  in  bundles  and  laid  to  soak  iu 
pools  or  ponds  of  water.  By  this  means  the  pulpy 
part  of  the  stalk  dissolves,  and  the  fibers  are 
loosened. 

3.  The  bundles  are  then  taken  out  and  spread 
in  a  sunny  place  till  the  stalks  are  quite  brittle, 
when  the  fibrous  part  is  easily  separated,  by  beat- 
ing, from  the  rest  of  the  plant.    After  various  pro- 

37* 


150      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


cesses  of  cleaning  and  combing,  it  is  in  a  fit  state 
to  be  spun  into  thread.  The  chief  textures  manu- 
factured from  flax  are  known  by  the  names  of 
linens,  damasks,  shirtings,  etc.  The  coarser  and 
stronger  kinds  are  used  for  sail-cloth,  sheeting,  can- 
tas,  etc.  The  finest  flax  texture  is  cambric;  so 
named  because  it  was  first  manufactured  in  the 
town  of  Cambrai,  in  the  north  of  France. 

4.  The  art  of  making  fine  linen  out  of  flax  fibers 
has  been  known  and  practiced  for  more  than  four 
thousand  years.  Linen  was  esteemed  above  woolen 
cloth  in  the  East,  and  is  mentioned  several  times 
in  the  Scriptures  as  an  indication  of  the  rank  of  the 
wearer.  In  the  parable  of  the  Rich  Man  and 
Lazarus,  we  are  told  only  two  things  about  the 
outward  state  of  the  rich  man,  and  they  relate  to 
his  clothing  and  his  food.  He  "  was  clothed  in 
purple  and  fine  linen." 

5.  These  words  are  quite  sufficient  to  inform  us 
of  his  riches,  even  if  it  were  not  added  that  "  he 
fared  sumptuously  every  day ;"  for  the  woolen 
cloth  dyed  purple  was  very  rare  and  costly,  only 
worn  by  kings  and  great  persons ;  and  the  "  fine 
linen"  was  a  most  choice  and  expensive  material, 
and  to  be  obtained  only  by  the  rich. 

6.  Linen  was,  in  the  earliest  period  of  civiliza- 
tion, the  most  delicate  material  for  garments.  The 
ancient  Egyptians  were  acquainted  with  the  art 
of  spinning  and  weaving  flax  in  the  time  of  their 
greatest  prosperity,  nearly  three  thousand  years 
ago.    Linen  cloth  was  not  only  used  for  garments 


TEE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  151 


by  kings  and  rich  subjects  in  their  lifetime,  but 
the  mummies  found  in  the  royal  tombs  of  the 
pyramids  at  Thebes  were  wrapped  in  fine  linen. 


LESSO 

Ad-ja'cent,  near;  close  by. 

Ap-pro'pri-ate,  fit;  suitable. 

Chrys'a-lis  (kris/-),  the  gold- 
colored  sheath  of  butterflies. 
(From  the  Greek,  chrusos,  gold.) 

Co-coon7,  the  ball  made  by  the 
silk-worm. 

Fij/a-ment,  a  thread. 


N  LII. 

Man-tj-fact'ure,  (man-yu-fakt'- 
yur),  anything  made  by  art. 

Mo-nop'o-ly,  sole  right  of  selling 
or  possessing. 

0/val,  shaped  like  an  egg. 

Trans-parent,  that  may  be  seen 
through. 

Vo-RA/-ciors-LY,  greedily. 


THE  SILK  MANUFACTURE. 

1.  In  the  early  part  of  the  sixth  century  two 
monks  on  a  mission  to  China  brought  away  with 
them  a  quantity  of  silk-worm  eggs,  concealed  in  a 
piece  of  hollow  cane,  which  they  carried  to  Con- 
stantinople. There  they  hatched  the  eggs,  reared 
the  worms,  and  spun  the  silk ;  for  the  first  time 
introducing  that  manufacture  into  Europe,  and  de- 
stroying the  monopoly  which  China  had  hitherto 
enjoyed. 

2.  From  Constantinople  the  knowledge  and  the 
practice  of  the  art  gradually  extended  to  Greece, 
thence  to  Italy,  and  next  to  Spain.  Each  country, 
as  in  turn  it  gained  jDossession  of  the  secret,  strove 
to  preserve  it  with  jealous  care;  but  to  little  pur- 
pose. A  secret  that  so  many  thousands  already 
shared  in  common  could  not  long  be  kept.  Grad- 


152      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


ually  the  manufacture  became  common  in  the 
southern  countries  of  Europe. 

3.  The  silk- worm  is  the  caterpillar  of  the  mul- 
berry tree  moth.  This  tree  seems  almost  exclu- 
sively its  own  ;  for  while  other  trees  and  vegetables 
nourish  myriads  of  insects,  the  mulberry  tree  is 
seldom  attacked  by  any  but  this  insect,  which,  in 
many  parts  of  its  native  country,  China,  is  found 
on  the  leaves  in  the  open  air. 

4.  It  there  goes  through  all  its  changes  without 
any  attention  from  man,  whose  only  care  is  to 
gather  in  the  harvest  of  silk  cocoons  at  the  right 
season.  In  some  parts  of  China,  however,  the 
silk-worm  requires  the  same  care,  in  the  way  of 
shelter,  feeding  and  nursing,  which  in  other  coun- 
tries is  found  necessary  to  insure  success. 

5.  The  silk-worm  when  first  hatched  is  about  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  long.  If  supplied  with  appro- 
priate food,  it  remains  contentedly  in  one  spot. 
After  eight  days'  feeding  and  rapid  increase  in 
size,  it  prepares  to  change  its  skin,  which  has  be- 
come too  small  for  its  body.  This  operation  is 
facilitated  by  silken  lines  which  the  insect  casts  off 
and  fixes  to  adjacent  objects ;  these  hold  the  old 
skin  tightly  while  the  caterpillar  creeps  out  of  it. 

6.  It  immediately  begins  again  to  eat  voraciously, 
and  in  five  days  more  another  change  of  skin  is 
necessary.  Four  of  these  renewals  bring  the  in- 
sect to  its  full  size,  which  is  about  three  inches 
long  Arrived  at  maturity,  the  caterpillar  is  of  a 
rich  golden  hue.    It  then  leaves  off  eating  and 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  153 


selects  a  corner  in  which  to  spin  its  cocoon.  It 
first  forms  a  loose  structure  of  floss  silk,  and  then 
within  it  the  closer  texture  of  its  nest,  which  is  of 
an  oval  shape. 

7.  Here  it  remains  spinning  and  working  until 
it  is  gradually  lost  sight  of  within  its  own  beauti- 
ful winding-sheet.  On  the  completion  of  its  cocoon 
it  changes  its  skin  once  more,  and  then  becomes 
an  apparently  inanimate  chrysalis,  with  a  smooth 
brown  skin.  It  remains  in  this  corpse-like  state 
for  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  when  it  comes  forth 
a  perfect  winged  insect — the  silk-moth. 

8.  In  escaping  from  the  cocoon,  it  pushes  the 
fibers  aside ;  having  no  teeth,  it  cannot  gnaw  its 
way  out,  as  is  generally  supposed.  In  the  perfect 
form,  the  insect  takes  no  food,  and  only  lives  two 
or  three  days. 

9.  The  silk  of  the  silk-worm  is  a  fine  yellow, 
transparent  gum,  which  hardens  as  it  becomes  ex- 
posed to  the  air  when  issuing  from  the  insect's 
body.  The  length  of  filament  yielded  by  a  single 
cocoon  is  about  three  hundred  yards.  This  fila- 
ment, however,  is  so  fine  that  it  takes  upward  of 
two  thousand  cocoons  to  make  a  pound  weight  of 
silk. 

10.  Attempts  to  breed  and  rear  silk-worms  have 
generally  failed  in  the  United  States,  partly  from 
the  unfitness  of  the  climate,  and  partly  from  the 
high  rate  of  wages,  which  renders  this  employment 
better  adapted  to  the  social  condition  of  China  and 
the  south  of  Europe. 


154        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LIII. 


Said  a  drop  to  a  drop,  "  Just  look  at  me ! 
I'm  the  finest  rain-drop  you  ever  did  see : 
I  have  lived  ten  seconds  at  least  on  my  pane, 
Swelling  and  filling,  and  swelling  again. 


II. 

"  All  the  little  rain-drops  unto  me  run, 

I  watch  them,  and  catch  them,  and  suck  them  up  each  one ! 

All  the  pretty  children  stand  and  at  me  stare, 

Pointing  with  their  fingers — *  That's  the  biggest  drop  there  !'  " 

III. 

"  Ah  !  yet  you  are  but  a  drop,1'  the  small  drop  replied ; 
u  I  don't  myself  see  any  great  cause  for  pride : 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  155 


The  bigger  you  swell  up,  we  know  well,  my  friend, 
The  faster  you'll  run  down,  the  sooner  you'll  end. 

IV. 

"  For  me,  I'm  contented  outside  on  my  ledge, 
Hearing  the  patter  of  rain  in  the  hedge,  . 
Looking  at  the  fire-light  and  the  children  fair ; 
Whether  they  look  at  me,  I'm  sure  I  don't  care." 

V. 

"  Sir,"  cried  the  first  drop,  "  your  talk  is  but  dull ; 
I  can't  wait  to  listen,  for  I'm  almost  full ; 
You'll  run  a  race  with  me  ?    No  ?    Then  'tis  plain 
I  am  the  greatest  drop  on  the  whole  pane." 

VI. 

Off  ran  the  big  drop,  at  first  rather  slow, 
Then  faster  and  faster,  as  drops  will,  you  know : 
Raced  down  the  window-pane  like  hundreds  before, 
Just  reached  the  window-sill — one  splash — and  was  o'er. 


LESSON  LIV. 

As-so'ci-ate,  (-shl-)  a  companion.  Man'na,  a  honey-like  juice  got 

Fru-i/tion  (froo-ish'un),  use  ac-  from  a  kind  of  ash  tree  found 

companied  with  enjoyment.  in  the  south  'of  Europe. 

1n-dei/i-ble,  not  to  be  effaced.  Vi'beate,  to  quiver. 

Avoid  saying  ax  for  acts.  Give  o  in  nothing  and  none  the  sound  of 
short  u. 

INFLUENCE  OF  EXAMPLE. 

1.  Eveey  morning  we  enter  upon  a  new  day 
that  carries  an  unknown  future  in  its  bosom. 
How  stirring  the  reflection !  Thoughts  may  be 
born  to-day  which  may  never  die.  Feelings  may 
be  awakened  to-day  which  may  never  be  extin- 


156      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


guished.  Hopes  may  be  excited  to-day  which 
may  never  expire.  Acts  may  be  performed  to- 
day the  consequences  of  which  may  not  be  realized 
till  eternity. 

2.  No  man's  acts  die  utterly.  It  is  a  terrible 
thought  to  remember  that  nothing  can  be  for- 
gotten. I  have  somewhere  read  that  not  an  oath 
is  uttered  that  does  not  continue  to  vibrate  through 
all  time  in  the  wide-spread  current  of  sound — not 
a  prayer  lisped  that  its  record  is  not  to  be  found 
stamped  on  the  laws  of  nature  by  the  indelible  seal 
of  the  Almighty's  will. 

"  We  live  in  deeds,  not  years ;  in  thoughts,  not  breaths  ; 
In  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial. 
We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs.    He  most  lives 
Who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acts  the  best, 
And  he  whose  heart  beats  quickest  lives  the  longest." 

3.  Every  act  we  do  or  word  we  utter,  as  well  as 
every  act  we  witness  or  word  we  hear,  carries  with 
it  an  influence  which  not  only  extends  over  our 
whole  future  life,  and  gives  to  it  color  and  direction, 
but  produces  some  effect,  slight  or  important,  upon 
the  whole  frame  of  society.  And  herein  lies  the 
great  significance  of  setting  forth  a  good  example 
— a  silent  teaching,  which  even  the  poorest  person 
and  the  humblest  child  can  enforce  by  his  daily 
life. 

4.  Let  us  first  take  heed  to  our  thoughts,  for 
thoughts  resolve  themselves,  sooner  or  later,  into 
habits  and  deeds.    To  think  is  to  live.    To-day  is 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  157 


the  time  for  all  good  resolutions  and  for  all  first 
steps  in  improvement : 

0  bright  presence  of  to-day,  let  me  wrestle  with  thee,  gracious 

angel ! 

1  will  not  let  thee  go  except  thou  bless  me  ;  bless  me,  then, 

to-day ! 

0  sweet  garden  of  to-day,  let  me  gather  of  thee,  precious 

Eden  ; 

1  haye  stolen  bitter  knowledge,  giye  me  fruits  of  life  to-day. 

0  true  temple  of  to-day,  let  me  worship  in  thee,  glorious  Zion : 

1  find  none  other  place  nor  time  than  where  I  am  to-day. 

0  living  rescue  of  to-day,  let  me  run  into  thee,  ark  of  refuge  : 

1  see  none  other  hope  nor  chance  but  standeth  in  to-day. 

0  rich  banquet  of  to-day,  let  me  feast  upon  thee,  saying 

manna ; 

1  have  none  other  food  nor  store  but  daily  bread  to-day. 


Cor'ei  (cfir'ay),  the  side  of  the 

hill  where  the  game  lies. 
Cor/o-xach  (-nak),  a  dirge. 


Cuji/ber,  trouble ;  vexation. 
For ''ray,  a   sudden  attack 
plunder;  a  ravaging. 


for 


COKONACH. 

He  is  gone  on  the  mountain,  he  is  lost  to  the  forest, 
Like  a  summer-dried  fountaiD,  when  our  need  was  the  sorest 
The  fount,  reappearing,  from  the  rain-drops  shall  borrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering,  to  Duncan  no  morrow  ! 

The  hand  of  the  reaper  takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 
But  the  voice  of  the  weeper  wails  manhood  in  glory ; 
The  autumn  winds,  rushing,  waft  the  leaves  that  are  serest, 
But  our  flower  was  in  flushing  when  blighting  was  nearest. 

Fleet  foot  on  the  corei,  sage  counsel  in  cumber, 
Red  hand  in  the  forray,  how  sound  is  thy  slumber ! 
Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain,  like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain,  thou  art  gone,  and  for  ever  I 
38 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LV, 


l/ing,  the  inner  roof. 
De  vice7,  scheme  ;  contrivance. 


I-de'a,  notion;  thought. 
Wands,  eatables ;  victuals. 


Pronounce  Damocles,  d&m' 6-kleez ;  Dionysius,  di-d-nts'l-Os.  Sicily  is 
a  large  island  in  the  Mediterranean  Sea. 

I 


THE  KING  AND  THE  FLATTERER. 

1.  Dionysius,  the  tyrant  of  Sicily,  was  far  from 
being  happy,  though  he  had  great  riches  and  all 
the  pleasures  which  wealth  could  procure.  Damo- 
cles, one  of  his  flatterers,  told  him  that  no  monarch 
had  ever  been  greater  or  happier  than  Dionysius. 
"  Hast  thou  a  mind,"  said  the  king,  "  to  taste  this 
happiness,  and  to  know  what  that  is  of  which  thou 
hast  so  high  an  idea  ?"  Damocles  with  joy  ac- 
cepted the  offer. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  159 


2.  The  king  ordered  tliat  a  royal  banquet  should 
be  prepared,  and  a  gilded  sofa  placed  for  the  flat- 
terer. There  were  sideboards  loaded  whh  gold 
and  silver  plate  of  immense  value.  Pages  of  great 
beauty  were  ordered  to  attend  his  table,  and  to 
obey  his  commands.  Fragrant  ointments,  flowers 
and  perfumes  were  added  to  the  feast,  and  the 
table  was  spread  with  choice  delicacies  of  every 
kind.  Damocles,  over-elated  with  pleasure,  fancied 
himself  amongst  superior  beings. 

3.  But  in  the  midst  of  all  this  happiness,  as  he 
lies  indulging  himself  in  state,  he  sees  let  down 
from  the  ceiling,  just  over  his  head,  a  large  bright 
sword  hung  by  a  single  hair.  This  sight  puts  an 
end  to  his  joy.  The  pomp  of  his  attendance,  the 
glitter  of  the  carved  plate  and  the  delicacy  of  the 
viands  cease  to  afford  him  any  pleasure.  He 
dreads  to  stretch  forth  his  hand  to  the  table.  He 
throws  off  the  garland  of  roses. 

4.  He  hastens  to  remove  from  so  dangerous  a 
situation,  and  earnestly  begs  the  king  to  restore 
him  to  his  former  humble  condition,  having  no 
desire  to  enjoy  any  longer  a  happiness  so  terrible. 
By  this  device  Dionysius  showed  to  Damocles  how 
wretched  was  he,  the  king,  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
treasures  and  all  the  honors  which  royalty  could 
bestow.  But  because  the  humbler  lot  may  be  the 
easier,  it  does  not  follow  that  we  ought  to  prefer  it 
Had  the  king  been  a  good  man  and  a  wise  ruler, 
he  might  have  defied  the  suspended  sword  so  long 
as  he  was  true  to  his  duty. 


160      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LVI. 


An-noy',  n.,  disturbance. 
Big/ot,  a  zealot  ;  a  dogmatist. 
Boons,  favors  granted. 
Brand,  a  sword ;  a  fire-brand. 
Ex'qui-site  (-zlt),  select:  rare. 


Gall  (gal),  rancor;  bitterness. 
Gos'sa-mer,  a.,  light ;  flimsy. 
Peers,  equals;  mates. 
Sup/pli-ant,    entreating ;  beg- 
ging; imploring. 


THE  THREE  WISHES. 
I. 

Three  schoolfellows  once,  on  a  summer  day, 

Having  fairly  tired  themselves  out  at  play, 

Lay  down  by  the  bank  of  a  rippling  stream 

To  dream  of  the  future,  as  young  hearts  dream, 

And  to  tell  tQ  each  other,  again  and  again, 

The  deeds  they  would  do  when  they  should  be  men. 

II. 

The  First  one  carelessly  lifted  his  head, 
And  his  dark  eye  flashed  as  he  proudly  said: 
"A  few  short  years,  and  the  sound  of  my  name 
Shall  fill  the  ringing  trumpet  of  Fame ; 
I  will  lead  men  on  to  the  field  afar; 
I  will  come  from  thence  with  the  spoils  of  war! 
A  mighty  force  will  I  hold  in  my  hand — 
Thousands  shall  wait  on  my  least  command; 
The  fairest  and  bravest  for  me  shall  live, 
Craving  the  boons  that  are  mine  to  give; 
And  the  laurel  wreath  and  the  sounding  lay 
And  the  rush  of  proud  music  shall  greet  my  way!" 

III. 

The  Second  looked  up,  and  his  eyes  of  blue 
Flashed  prouder  than  his  of  the  darker  hue ; 
"  Boast  of  your  slaves  with  the  suppliant  knee — 
You  and  your  peers,  bend  your  souls  to  me  ! 


THE  NEW  AMERICAS  FOURTH  REAL  EE.  161 


My  life  shall  be  like  a  beautiful  dream : 
Like  beauty  to  ashes,  to  yours  it  shall  seem ! 
I  will  send  my  fancy  on  gossamer  wings 
To  roam  the  earth  for  its  loveliest  things : 
The  pen  I  shall  wield  with  my  own  right  hand 
Shall  mightier  be  than  your  murderous  brand ; 
It  shall  master  the  heart  with  its  exquisite  skill — 
You  shall  laugh,  you  shall  weep,  hope  or  fear,  at  my  will ! 

IV. 

With  a  glance  at  the  bright  blue  sky  above. 
The  Third  said :  "  Give  me  but  truth  and  love — 
Truth  for  my  mind  and  love  for  my  heart — 
Then,  with  a  will,  let  me  do  my  part ; 
Truth  that  may  shed  on  Error's  host 
The  light  that  shall  conquer  Evil  most : 
Love  that  may  see  in-  the  poorest  being 
The  wonderful  work  of  God  the  all-seeing ; 
That  with  tender  eye  may  look  upon  all. 
And  spurn  from  my  heart  the  bigot's  gall ; 
And  give  of  itself  and  of  truth  from  my  store, 
And,  by  every  giving,  gain  all  the  more!" 

V. 

I  cannot  say  how  these  boys  turned  out  : 
That  is  a  matter  for  gravest  doubt; 
The  First  may  have  found  that  the  battle  of  life 
For  him  was  enough  of  trial  and  strife  : 
The  Second  may,  moth-like,  have  burnt  his  wings  : 
Dreaming  and  doing  are  different  things ! 
But  T  know  full  well  that  the  wish  of  the  Third 
Was  of  all  these  wishes  the  least  absurd. 
What  better  guides  would  you  have,  dear  boy, 
Than  truth  and  love  'mid  the  world's  annoy  ? 
Pray  for  them,  then,  with  earnest  heart, 
Amd  go  forth  boldly  to  do  thy  part ! 
18  * 


162       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LVII 


Com-pet'i-tors,  rivals. 

Con-den-sa'tion,  the  act  of  mak- 
ing more  close  or  compact. 

Dis-con-cert/ed,  abashed. 

Garrulous  (g&r'roo-lus),  talka- 
tive. 

Genuine  (jeVu-In),  real;  true. 
Intriguing  (in-treeg'ing),  plot- 
ting. 

Jar'gon,  confused  talk  ;  gabble. 
Judgment,  faculty  of  judging. 
La-con'ic,  short ;  pithy ;  concise. 
Memphis  (-fis),  a  city  of  Egypt. 


Mas'ter-piece,  a  capital  perform* 
ance. 

Op/vi-ous,  easily  perceived ;  plain, 

Par'si-mo-ny,  stinginess. 

Pro-vin'cial,  belonging  to  a 
province. 

Su-per-nu/mer-a-ry,  exceeding 
the  number  stated  or  prescribed. 

Treatise  (-is  or  iz),  a  written 
composition  on  a  particular  sub- 
ject. 

U-nan/i-mous,  being  of  one  mind. 
Ver-bose',  wordy ;  prolix. 


THE  SILENT  ACADEMY. 


1.  In  Memphis,  the  capital  of  ancient  Egypt, 
there  was  a  famous  academy,  one  of  the  rules  of 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  163 


which  was  as  follows :  "  Members  will  meditate 
much,  write  little  and  talk  the  least  possible."  The 
institution  was  known  as  "  The  Silent  Academy," 
and  there  was  not  a  person  of  any  literary  note  in 
Egypt  who  was  not  ambitious  of  belonging  to  it. 

2.  Akmed,  a  young  Egyptian  of  great  learning 
and  exquisite  judgment,  was  the  author  of  a  treatise 
entitled  "  The  Art  of  Brevity."  It  was  a  master- 
piece of  condensation  and  precision,  and  he  was 
laboring  to  compress  it  still  more,  when  he  learned, 
in  his  provincial  seclusion,  that  there  was  a  place 
vacant  in  the  Silent  Academy. 

3.  Although  he  had  not  yet  completed  his 
twenty-third  year,  and  a  great  number  of  com- 
petitors were  intriguing  for  the  place,  he  went 
and  presented  himself  as  a  candidate.  A  crowd 
of  gossiping  loungers  on  the  portico  speedily  drew 
near  and  asked  him  a  great  many  questions. 
Without  uttering  a  word  in  reply,  Akmed  ap- 
proached one  of  the  ushers  and  placed  in  his 
hands  a  letter  addressed  to  the  president.  It  con- 
tained these  words :  "  Akmed  humbly  solicits  the 
vacant  place."  The  usher  delivered  the  letter  at 
once,  but  Akmed  and  his  application  had  arrived 
too  late.    The  place  was  already  filled. 

4.  By  arts  which  even  academies  sometimes  find 
irresistible,  the  favorite  candidate  of  a  certain  rich 
man  had  been  elected.  The  members  of  the  Silent 
Academy  were  sorry  when  they  learned  what  they 
had  lost  in  consequence.  The  new  member  was  a 
glib  and  garrulous  pretender,  whose  verbose  jargon 


164      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


was  as  unprofitable  as  it  was  wearisome,  whereas 
Akmed,  the  scourge  of  all  babblers,  never  gave 
utterance  to  an  unwise  word. 

5.  How  should  they  communicate  to  the  author 
of  "  The  Art  of  Brevity "  the  bad  news  of  the 
failure  of  his  application?  They  were  at  a  loss 
for  the  best  mode  of  proceeding,  when  the  presi- 
dent hit  upon  this  expedient :  he  filled  a  goblet 
with  water,  but  so  full  that  a  single  drop  more 
would  have  caused  it  to  overflow.  Then  he  made 
a  sign  that  the  candidate  should  be  introduced. 

6.  Akmed  entered  the  hall  where  the  members 
were  all  assembled.  With  slow  and  measured 
steps,  and  that  genuine  modesty  of  demeanor  which 
ever  accompanies  true  merit,  he  advanced.  At  his 
approach  the  president  politely  rose  and,  without 
uttering  a  word,  pointed  out  to  him,  with  a  gesture 
of  regret,  the  fatal  token  of  his  exclusion.  Smil- 
ing at  the  emblem,  the  meaning  of  which  he  at 
once  comprehended,  the  young  Egyptian  was  not 
disconcerted.  Believing  that  the  admission  of  a 
supernumerary  member  would  do  no  harm,  and 
would  violate  no  essential  law  of  the  academy,  he 
picked  up  a  rose  leaf  which  he  saw  lying  at  his 
feet,  and  placed  it  on  the  surface  of  the  water  so 
gently  that  it  floated  without  causing  the  slightest 
drop  to  overflow. 

7.  At  this  apt  and  obvious  reply  a  general  clap- 
ping of  hands  spoke  the  admiration  of  the  mem- 
bers. By  unanimous  consent  they  suspended  their 
rules  so  as  to  make  an  exception  in  favor  of  Ak- 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  165 

med's  admission.  They  handed  him  their  registry 
of  names,  and  he  inscribed  his  own  name  at  the 
end.  It  now  only  remained  for  him  to  pronounce, 
according  to  custom,  an  address  of  thanks,  but  he 
was  resolved  to  act  consistently  with  that  principle 
of  the  academy  which  enjoined  the  utmost  parsi- 
mony of  words. 

8.  On  the  margin  of  the  column  where  he  had 
written  his  name  he  traced  the  number  100,  rep- 
resenting his  brethren  of  the  academy  and  the 
number  to  which  they  had  been  limited.  Then 
placing  a  cipher  before  the  figure  1  (thus,  0100), 
he  wrote  underneath :  "  Their  number  has  been 
neither  diminished  nor  increased."  Delighted  at 
the  laconic  ingenuity  and  becoming  modesty  of 
Akmed,  the  president  shook  him  affectionately  by 
the  hand,  and  then,  substituting  the  figure  1  for 
the  cipher  which  preceded  the  number  100  (thus, 
1100),  he  appended  these  words:  "  Their  number 
has  been  increased  tenfold." 


LESSON  LVIII. 


Aug-ment/,  to  increase. 
E-lapse/,  to  pass  a  way. 
Im-pet'tj-ous,  furious. 
Pelf,  money ;  lucre. 


Random,  to  liberate. 
Sod'den  (s6d/dn),  to  stew. 
Squadron  (skw&d'-),  a  part  of 


an  army. 


EXERCISES  IN  EMOTIONAL  DELIVERY. 


1. — Fidelity. — Aaron  Hill. 
O  my  young  friend,  be  obstinately  just  ; 
Indulge  no  passion  and  betray  no  trust. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Let  never  man  be  bold  enough  to  say, 
Thus,  and  no  farther,  shall  ray  passion  stray  ; 
The  first  crime  past  compels  us  into  more, 
And  guilt  grows  fate  that  was  but  choice  before. 

2. — Death  for  Freedom. — Byron. 
They  never  fail  who  die 

In  a  great  cause  !    The  block  may  soak  their  gore, 

Their  heads  may  sodden  in  the  sun,  their  limbs 

Be  strung  to  city  gates  and  castle  walls, 

But  still  their  spirit  walks  abroad.    Though  years 

Elapse,  and  others  share  as  dark  a  doom, 

They  but  augment  the  deep  and  sweeping  thoughts 

That  overpower  all  others,  and  conduct 

The  world,  at  last,  to  freedom. 

3.  — HoTsruR  in  Anger. — Shakespeare. 
He  said  he  would  not  ransom  Mortimer  ; 
Forbade  my  tongue  to  speak  of  Mortimer ; 
But  I  will  find  him  when  he  lies  asleep, 
And  in  his  ear  I'll  hollo,  Mortimer  ! 

Nay,  I'll  have  a  starling  shall  be  taught  to  speak 
Nothing  but  Mortimer,  and  give  it  him 
To  keep  his  auger  still  in  motion. 

4.  — Remorse  of  Macbeth. — Shakespeare. 
I  have  lived  long  enough  :  my  way  of  life 

Is  fallen  into  the  sere,  the  yellow  leal' ; 
And  that  which  should  accompany  old  age, 
As  honor,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends, 
I  must  not  look  to  have  ;  but,  in  their  stead, 
Curses,  not  loud,  but  deep — mouth-honor — breath  ! 
Which  the  poor  heart  would  fain  deny,  but  dare  uot. 

5.  — Antony  on  Brutus. — Shakespeare. 
This  wTas  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all : 
All  the  conspirators,  save  only  he, 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


167 


Did  that  they  did  in  envy  of  great  Caesar  ; 

He  only,  in  a  general  honest  thought 

And  common  good  to  all,  made  one  of  them. 

His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 

So  mixed  in  him  that  Nature  might  stand  up. 

And  say  to  all  the  world,  "  This  was  a  man  !" 

6.  — Improve  the  Present. — Dryden. 
Happy  the  man,  and  happy  he  alone, 

He  who  can  call  to-day  his  own; 
He  who,  secure  within,  can  say, 
To-morrow,  do  thy  worst,  for  I  have  lived  to-day  ! 

Be  fair  or  foul,  or  rain  or  shine, 
The  joys  I  have  possessed  in  spite  of  fate  are  mine. 

Not  Heaven  itself  upon  the  past  has  power, 
But  what  has  been,  has  been,  and  I  have  had  my  hour. 

7.  — Battle  of  'Waterloo. — Byron. 
And  there  was  mounting  in  hot  haste :  the  steed, 

The  mustering  squadron  and  the  clattering  car 
Went  pouring  forward  with  impetuous  speed, 

And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war ; 

And  the  deep  thunder,  peal  on  peal,  afar, 
And  near,  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum, 

Roused  up  the  soldier  ere  the  morning  star, 
"While  thronged  the  citizens,  with  terror  dumb, 
Or  whispering  with  white  lips,  "  The  foe  !  they  come  !  they 
come !" 

8. — Love  of  Country. — Scott. 
Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 
"  This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  ?" 
Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned, 
As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned 
From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand  ? 


168     THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


If  such  there  breathe,  go,  mark  him  well : 
For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell ! 
High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name, 
Boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim  ; 
Despite  those  titles,  power  and  pelf, 
The  wretch,  concentered  all  in  self, 
Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown, 
And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 
To  the  vile  dust,  from  whence  he  sprung, 
Unwept,  unhonored  and  unsung. 


LESSON  LIX. 


An-tag'o-nism,  opposition. 
Con-tem/plate,  to  meditate. 
De-part/ment,  a  division. 
De-pre'ci-ate  (de-pre'she-ate), 
to  undervalue ;  to  disparage. 


Ev-a-nes'cent,  transient. 
Lav'ish-ly,  freely ;  profusely. 
Per-pe-tu/i-ty,  endless  duration 
Tran/st-to-ry,  quickly  vanished 
Trib'ute,  tax ;  offering. 


NATURE  AND  AKT* 

1.  Among  the  greatest  errors  that  language  has 
imposed  upon  us,  there  is  none  more  remarkable 
than  the  sort  of  antagonism  which  is  established  in 
common  language  as  between  nature  and  art.  We 
speak  of  art  as  being,  in  a  certain  manner,  the 
rival  of  nature  and  opposed  to  it;  we  contrast  them 
—we  speak  of  the  superiority  of  nature,  and  depre- 
ciate art  as  compared  with  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
what  is  art  but  the  effort  that  is  made  by  human 

*  From  an  address  to  workingmen  delivered  in  Manchester,  Eng- 
land, in  1857,  by  Nicholas  Wiseman,  who  was  born  in  Spain  of  Eng- 
lish parents  in  1802,  and  has  held  a  prominent  position  as  a  Catholic 
preacher  and  writer.    He  was  made  a  cardinal  in  1852. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  169 


skill  to  seize  upon  the  transitory  features  of  nature, 
to  give  them  the  stamp  of  perpetuity  ? 

2.  If  we  study  nature,  we  see  that  in  her  gen- 
eral laws  she  is  unchangeable ;  the  year  goes  on 
its  course,  and  day  after  day  the  earth  passes  mag- 
nificently through  the  same  revolutions.  But 
there  is  not  one  single  moment  in  which  either 
nature,  or  anything  that  belongs  to  her,  is  station- 
ary. The  earth,  the  planets  and  the  sun  and 
moon  are  not  for  any  instant  in  exactly  the  same 
relation  mutually  as  they  were  in  a  previous  in- 
stant. The  face  of  nature  is  constantly  changing ; 
and  what  is  it  that  preserves  that  for  us  but  art, 
which  is  not  the  rival,  but  the  child,  as  well  as  the 
handmaid,  of  nature  ? 

3.  You  find,  when  you  watch  the  setting  sun, 
how  beautiful  and  how  bright  it  is  for  an  instant, 
then  how  it  fades  away  !  The  sky  and  sea  are 
covered  with  darkness,  and  the  departed  light  is 
reflected  still  upon  your  mind  as  it  had  been  just 
now  upon  the  water.  In  that  one  evanescent  mo- 
ment a  Claude  or  a  Stanfield*  dips  his  pencil  in 
the  glowing  sky,  and  transfers  its  hue  to  his  can- 
vas ;  and  ages  after,  by  the  lamp  of  night,  or  in 
the  brightness  of  the  morning,  we  can  contemplate 
that  evening  scene  of  nature,  and  again  renew  in 
ourselves  all  the  emotions  which  the  reality  could 
impart. 


*  Claude  Lorraine,  a  famous  Italian  landscape  painter,  died  in  1682 
Stanfield  is  a  modern  English  painter  of  high  celebrity. 
39 


170     THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


4.  Let  us,  therefore,  look  on  art  but  as  the 
highest  image  that  can  be  made  of  nature.  Con- 
sequently, while  religion  is  the  greatest  and  no- 
blest mode  in  which  we  acknowledge  the  masrnifi- 
cent  and  all-wise  majesty  of  God,  and  what  he  has 
done  both  for  the  spiritual  and  the  physical  exist- 
ence of  man,  let  us  look  upon  art  as  but  the  most 
graceful  and  natural  tribute  of  homage  we  can  pay 
to  him  for  the  beauties  which  he  has  so  lavishly 
scattered  over  creation. 

5.  Art,  then,  is  a  sacred  and  a  reverend  thing, 
and  one  which  must  be  treated  with  all  nobleness 
of  feeling  and  with  all  dignity  of  aim.  We  must 
not  depress  it ;  our  education  in  it  must  always  be 
tending  higher  and  higher ;  we  must  fear  the  pos- 
sibility of  our  creating  a  mere  lower  class  of  artists 
who  would  degrade  the  higher  departments.  Let 
us  rather  endeavor  to  blend  and  harmonize  every 
department,  so  that  there  shall  cease  to  exist  iii 
the  minds  of  men  the  distinction  between  high 
and  low  art. 

KNOWLEDGE  AND  WISDOM. 

Knowledge  and  wisdom,  far  from  being  one, 
Have  ofttimes  no  connection.    Knowledge  dwells 
In  heads  replete  with  thoughts  of  other  men  ; 
Wisdom,  in  minds  attentive  to  their  own. 
Knowledge — a  rude,  unprofitable  mass, 
The  mere  materials  with  which  Wisdom  builds, 
Till  smoothed,  and  squared,  and  fitted  to  its  place- 
Does  but  encumber  whom  it  seems  to  enrich. 
Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  has  learned  so  much  ; 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  171 


LESSON  LX. 

Co^r-MEM'o-RAT-ED,  celebrated.     I  Rescued,  saved  ;  brought  off. 
Fleet,  company  of  ships.  I  Shone  (shon  or  shon),  did  shine. 


THE  LITTLE  MIDSHIPMAN. 


1.  The  little  midshipman  had  been  told  by  his 
father  to  take  a  position  on  the  deck,  and  not  to 
leave  it  until  he  ordered  him  to  do  so.  The  mid- 
shipman's name  was  Casabianca,  and  he  was  ten 
years  old.  He  and  his  father  were  in  the  Orient, 
one  of  the  ships  of  the  French  fleet  which,  in  Au- 
gust, 1798,  fought  the  English  fleet,  under  Lord 
Nelson,  in  the  bay  near  Alexandria,  Egypt. 

2.  About  nine  o'clock  at  night  the  good  ship 
Orient  caught  fire,  and  blazed  so  brightly  that  the 


172      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


bay  shone  as  if  it  were  day.  Then  Lord  Nelson 
made  a  signal  to  his  ships  that  they  should  stop 
firing,  and  ordered  his  sailors  to  row  in  their  small 
boats  to  the  burning  vessel  and  rescue  those  who 
still  remained  on  board. 

3.  The  French  sailors  gladly  surrendered,  to 
escape  from  the  wreck,  which  they  knew  must 
blow  up  as  soon  as  the  flames  reached  the  powder- 
magazine.  They  therefore  hastened  to  spring 
into  the  English  boats,  but  not  until  they  had 
called  to  their  little  favorite,  Casabianca,  to  come 
with  them. 

4.  Some  of  the  sailors  ran  to  bring  him,  but  he 
refused  to  quit  his  post.  They  told  him  that  the 
ship  must  soon  blow  up ;  they  entreated  him  to 
come  with  them ;  but  still  he  answered  that 
he  would  not  leave  until  his  father  ordered  him 
to  go. 

5.  In  the  French  reports  of  the  battle  it  is  said 
that  the  boy  replied,  "  No,  I  am  where  my  father 
stationed  me,  and  I  will  not  move  save  at  his  call." 
Then  he  was  told  that  his  father  was  wounded  and 
dying,  and  would  never  call  him  again. 

6.  Still  the  boy  would  not  go  with  the  sailors, 
but  hastened  to  render  such  aid  as  he  could  to  his 
father.  By  the  light  of  the  burning  ship  the 
sailors,  rowing  away,  saw  the  brave  lad  kneeling 
beside  his  father's  form,  and  lashing  it  to  the  frag- 
ment of  a  mast  which  had  been  shot  away  and  had 
fallen  on  the  deck. 

7.  He  was  then  seen  to  drag  the  mast  and  his 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER  173 


father's  body  to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  whence  he 
sprang  with  his  precious  charge  into  the  water. 
Almost  at  the  same  instant  a  fearful  explosion, 
which  shook  every  ship  in  the  harbor,  blew  the 
Orient  into  a  thousand  pieces.  As  soon  as  the 
flying  and  burning  fragments  had  fallen,  the  Eng- 
lish boats  returned  to  aid  any  person  who  might 
be  struggling  in  the  water. 

8.  For  a  moment  the  crew  of  one  boat  saw  at  a 
distance  the  helpless  figure  of  the  boy's  father 
bound  to  the  mast,  and  the  little  midshipman 
struggling  to  keep  his  head  above  the  waves ;  but 
before  they  could  reach  the  sj)ot,  darkness  had 
settled  over  it ;  the  noble  little  fellow  had  sunk, 
and  was  never  seen  as;ain.  His  heroic  conduct 
has  been  worthily  commemorated  by  Mrs.  Hemans 
in  the  following  familiar  lines : 

L 

The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck,  whence  all  but  him  had 
fled; 

The  flame  that  lit  the  battle's  wreck  shone  round  him  o'er  the 
dead  ; 

Yet  beautiful  and  bright  he  stood,  as  born  to  rule  the  storm— 
A  creature  of  heroic  blood,  a  proud  though  child-like  form ! 

II. 

The  flames  rolled  on — he  would  not  go  without  his  father's 
word ; 

That  father,  faint  in  death  below,  his  voice  no  longer  heard. 
He  called  aluud,  "  Say,  father,  say  if  yet  my  task  is  done  i" 
He  know  not  that  the  chieftain  lay  unconscious  of  his  son. 
89  * 


174     THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


III. 

"  Speak,  father,"  once  again  he  cried,  "  if  I  may  yet  be  gone !,; 
And  but  the  booming  shots  replied,  and  fast  the  flames 
rolled  on. 

Upon  his  brow  he  felt  their  breath,  and  in  his  waving  hair, 
And  looked  from  that  lone  post  of  death  in  still  yet  brave 
despair ! 

IV. 

He  shouted  yet  once  more  aloud,  "  My  father,  must  I  stay  ?" 
While  o'er  him  fast,  thro'  sail  and  shroud,  the  wreathing  fires 
made  way. 

They  wrapped  the  ship  in  splendor  wild,  they  caught  the  flag 
on  high, 

And  streamed  above  the  gallant  child  like  banners  in  the  sky. 

V. 

Then  came  a  burst  of  thunder  sound !    The  boy — oh  where 
was  he  ? 

Ask  of  the  winds,  that  far  around  with  fragments  strewed  the 
sea, 

With  mast  and  helm  and  pennon  fair,  that  well  had  borne 
their  part ; 

But  the  noblest  thing  that  perished  there  was  that  young 
faithful  heart ! 


LESSON  LXI. 

Coi-lu'sion  (kbl-lu'zhun),  a  se-    Jug'gler,    one    who  practices 

cret  agreement  for  fraud.  sleight-of-hand  tricks. 

Feat,  a  rare  deed  ;  a  trick.  Staff,  officers  about  a  general. 

For/ti-ttjde,  endurance.  Sen'si-tive,  having  acute  feelings. 

Pronounce  Napier  Na'pe-er ;  extraordinary,  eks-tror'di-na-iy. 
NAPIER  AND  THE  JUGGLER. 

1.  Sir  Charles  Napier  was  an  English  <reneral 
of  extraordinary  courage  and  determination.  He 


THE  SEW  AMERICA X  FOURTH  READER. 


175 


was  born  in  the  year  1782.  As  a  child  he  was 
weak  and  sickly,  but  of  a  noble  spirit.  Bold  and 
fearless,  he  was  at  the  same  time  compassionate  as 
a  girl.  Naturally  sensitive,  he  could,  by  his  force 
of  will,  call  up  daring  and  fortitude  to  conquer  his 
timidity. 

2.  "When  he  became  a  general  he  took  the  right 
method  for  inspiring  his  men  with  his  own  heroic 
spirit.  He  worked  as  hard  as  any  private  soldier 
in  the  ranks.  "  The  great  art  of  commanding,"  he 
said,  "  is  to  take  a  fair  share  of  the  work.  The 
man  who  leads  an  army  can  not  succeed  unless  his 
whole  mind  is  oiyen  to  his  task." 

o 

3.  An  anecdote  of  his  interview  with  a  famous 
Indian  juggler  shows  his  cool  courage  as  well  as 
his  simplicity  and  honesty  of  character.  After  a 
certain  battle  this  juggler  visited  the  camp  and 
performed  his  feats  before  the  general,  his  family 
and  staff.  Among  other  yierformances,  the  man 
cut  in  two  with  a  stroke  of  his  sword  a  lime  or 
lemon  placed  in  the  hand  of  his  assistant. 

4.  Sir  Charles  thought  there  was  some  collusion 
between  the  assistant  and  the  juggler.  To  divide 
by  a  sweep  of  the  sword  on  a  man's  hand  so  small 
an  object  without  touching  the  flesh,  he  believed  to 
be  impossible.  To  determine  the  point,  he  stretched 
out  his  right  arm,  and  offered  his  own  hand  for 
the  experiment. 

5.  The  juggler  looked  attentively  at  the  hand, 
and  said  he  would  not  make  the  trial.  "  I  thought 
I  would  find  you  out !"  exclaimed  Sir  Charles. 


176 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


"But  stop,"  added  the  juggler;  "let  me  see  your 
left  hand."  The  left  hand  was  submitted,  and  the 
man  then  said  firmly,  "  If  you  will  hold  your 
arm  steady,  I  will  perform  the  feat." 

6.  "  But  why  the  left  hand  and  not  the  right  ?" 
asked  Sir  Charles.  "  Because,"  replied  the  juggler, 
"  the  right  hand  is  hollow  in  the  center,  and  there 
is  a  risk  of  cutting  off  the  thumb;  the  left  is  high, 
and  the  danger  will  be  less."  Sir  Charles  was 
startled.  "  I  got  frightened,"  he  afterward  said ; 
"  I  saw  it  was  an  actual  feat  of  delicate  swords- 
manship. 

7.  "If  I  had  not  abused  the  man  before  my 
staff  and  challenged  him  to  the  trial,  I  honestly 
acknowledge  I  would  have  retired  from  the  en- 
counter. However,  I  put  the  lime  on  my  hand, 
and  held  out  my  arm  steadily.  The  juggler 
balanced  himself,  and  with  a  swift  stroke  cut 
the  lime  in  two  j)ieces.  I  felt  the  edge  of  the 
sword  on  my  hand  as  if  a  cold  thread  had  been 
drawn  across  it." 


THE  EXAMPLE  OF  BIRDS. 

Ring-dove!  resting  serenely  calm, 
Tell  my  bosom  thy  secret  balm  ; 
Black-bird !  straining  thy  tuneful  throat, 
Teach  my  spirit  thy  thankful  note  ; 
Eagle !  cleaving  the  vaulted  sky, 
Help  my  nature  to  soar  as  high  ; 
Sky-lark !  winging  thy  way  to  heaven, 
Be  thy  track  to  my  spirit  given. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  17' 


LESSON  LXII. 


Ai/mond  (al'mond  or  a'mond),  a  Ex'cre-to-ry,  throwing  off  from 

Bev/er-age,  drink  ;  potion,  [nut.  the  body  what  is  useless. 

Clean'u-ness  (kleV-),  neatness.  Fuxc'tioxs,  offices ;  employments. 

De-range',  (-ranj'),  to  disorder.  Putrid,  corrupt ;  rotten. 


1.  Four  things,  above  all  others,  are  required 
for  keeping  the  organic  structure  of  the  body  in  a 
healthy  performance  of  its  functions.  These  are 
air,  food,  exercise  and  cleanliness,  and  all  must  be 
had  under  proper  regulations. 

2.  Air  is  only  in  a  proper  state  for  supporting 
the  organic  functions  when  it  has  a  fifth  of  oxygen 
in  its  composition — that  is,  when  it  is  in  its  usual 
state  as  found  in  the  atmosphere.  In  a  room  which 
does  not  communicate  freely  with  the  open  air  we 
soon  reduce  the  quantity  of  oxygen  :  in  such  cir- 
cumstances every  breath  we  draw  is  detrimental  to 
health. 

3.  Hence,  all  sitting  and  sleeping  apartments 
should  be  large  and  have  the  ceiling  high,  or  else 
should  have  a  constant  communication  with  the 
open  air.  Churches,  schools,  factories  and  all 
places  where  multitudes  assemble  should  be  wel] 
ventilated.  The  air,  however,  is  nowhere  so  whole- 
some as  out  of  doors,  and  there,  accordingly,  every 
human  being  should  spend  a  considerable  portion 
of  every  day. 


Det-ri-ment'al,  injurious. 
E>i-bar/rass,  to  clog ;  to  vex. 
E-quiv'a-lent,  equal. 


RULES  FOR  HEALTH. 


J 78        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


4.  Wholesome  food  is  the  second  great  requisite 
for  health.  Of  the  numerous  articles  of  food,  some 
are  not  easily  digested,  as  pastry,  dried  and  pickled 
animal  food,  oily  dishes  and  fruits,  especially  those 
which  consist  of  the  kernels  of  nuts,  as  filberts, 
hickory  nuts  and  almonds.  These,  being  likely  to 
derange  the  stomach  and  occasion  pain,  ought  to 
be  avoided  or  only  indulged  in  sparingly. 

5.  Of  the  beverages  commonly  in  use  all  those 
which  contain  alcohol,  as  wine,  brandy,  gin  and 
whisky,  are  hurtful  to  the  digestive  powers.  When 
a  judicious  selection  of  articles  of  meat  and  drink 
has  been  made,  it  is  still  to  be  remembered  that  a 
certain  quantity  is  all  that  nature  demands.  If, 
under  the  influence  of  a  false  appetite,  we  eat  or 
drink  more  than  is  required  for  sustenance,  we 
overload  and  embarrass  the  stomach  and  prepare 
for  ourselves  many  serious  evils. 

6.  Moderate  exercise  is  necessary  to  health.  The 
direct  object  of  supply  is  to  allow  of  waste.  As 
fast  as  the  body  is  taking  in  new  substance  it  is 
giving  off  something  equivalent,  and  thus  a  per- 
petual freshening  flow  is  kept  up.  Now,  in  a  state 
of  inactivity,  this  flow  is  too  languid.  A  certain 
animation  of  mind  and  a  certain  exertion  of  the 
muscular  system  are  necessary  for  keeping  it  up, 
for  the  muscles,  when  exerted  under  the  influence 
of  a  willing  and  sprightly  mind,  take  in  fresh  sub- 
stance from  the  blood. 

7.  We  were  designed  to  labor — to  earn  our 
bread  by  the  sweat  of  our  brow.    We  have  there- 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  179 


fore  been  provided  with  organs  fitted  to  perform 
labor.  When  these  organs  are  used  in  the  way  or- 
dained by  nature — namely,  in  the  way  of  moderate 
exercise — her  intention  is  fulfilled,  and  wealth  is 
the  consequence.  When,  from  indolence  or  bad 
habits,  we  do  not  exercise  our  bodily  frames,  in- 
firmity and  bad  health  ensue. 

8.  When,  in  addition  to  imperfect  exercise,  there 
is  a  want  of  pure  air,  the  evil  consequences  to  health 
are  proportionally  increased.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  mind  and  body  ought  not  to  be  exercised  above 
their  strength,  for  by  such  means  either  may  be  so 
injured  that  death  will  be  hastened. 

9.  The  fourth  requisite  for  health  is  cleanliness. 
Bathing,  entire  or  partial,  and  frequent  and  regular 
changes  of  apparel,  are  necessary  for  the  qualifica- 
tion of  the  skin  to  perform  its  excretory  function. 
Not  knowing  this,  or  from  bad  habit,  many  indi- 
viduals do  not  wash  themselves  sufficiently,  and 
hence  not  only  render  their  persons  less  healthy, 
but  become  unseemly  and  disagreeable  to  others. 

10.  The  cleanness  of  our  clothes,  however  hum- 
ble they  may  be,  is  equally  important,  and  our 
apartments  should  be  kept  dry  and  regularly  swej^t 
and  well  aired.  As  with  our  persons  and  houses, 
so  wTith  the  streets  and  towns  we  dwell  in ;  they 
should  be  daily  cleaned,  and  no  putrid  matter  or 
stagnant  water  be  allowed  to  collect  in  their 
vicinity.  It  is  of  great  importance  to  form  habits 
of  cleanliness  in  early  life.  When  thus  formed, 
they  are  scarcely  ever  after  neglected. 


180     THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXIII 


In-com-pat-i-bii/i-ty,   want  of 

agreement. 
In'va-lid,  a  sick  person. 


Pet'u-lant,  fretful;  peevish. 
Tinct'ube,  a  tinge  or  shade  oi 
color;  tint;  dye. 


VALUE  OF  GOOD  TEMPER. 

1.  In  a  shop  for  the  sale  of  dry-goods  a  young 
woman  of  the  name  of  Mary  Remington  had  been 
taking  down  package  after  package  of  silks  and 
muslins  from  the  shelves,  to  show  to  a  very  par- 
ticular old  lady.  For  nearly  an  hour  Mary 
patiently  attended  to  her,  and  then  the  old  lady 
remarked,  "  I  think  I  shall  buy  nothing  to-day." 

2.  "  We  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  call  again," 
replied  Mary.  "  I  fear  I  have  given  you  a  good 
deal  of  trouble,"  said  the  old  lady.    "  I  would 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  181 


rather  be  occupied  than  stand  still,"  returned 
Mary,  with  a  smile,  which  the  old  lady  silently 
returned,  and  then  left  the  shop. 

3.  "How  could  you  be  so  civil  to  that  old 
plague?"  asked  Laura  Barclay,  who  had  been 
standing  near.  She  had  come  in  from  an  adjoin- 
ing sho|3  to  have  a  little  chat.  "  Did  you  ever  see 
her  before  ?"  she  asked.  "  Never,"  replied  Mary. 
"Well,"  said  Laura,  "that  same  old  creature  came, 
about  an  hour  ago,  into  our  shop  and  kept  me  un- 
rolling goods  for  her,  showing  laces  and  silks,  and 
I  don't  know  what,  just  as  she  has  been  doing  here, 
and  wound  up  in  the  same  way  with  the  remark, 
'  I  think  I  shall  buy  nothing  to-day.'  I  couldn't 
help  replying, '  I  didn't  expect  you  would.'  I  let 
her  see  what  I  thought  of  her." 

4.  "  You  did  wrong,  Laura,"  said  Mary.  "  You 
owe  it  to  your  employer  to  treat  his  customers  with 
perfect  patience  and  respect.  Do  you  know  that 
one  reason  why  shopkeepers  object  to  employing 
saleswomen  instead  of  salesmen  is  that  their  lady 
customers  say  they  receive  more  civility  from  the 
latter  than  from  the  former  ?  You  ought  to  be 
careful  how  you  give  cause  for  the  reproach  which 
our  own  sex  bring  against  us." 

5.  The  conversation  here  ended.  Laura,  petu- 
lant and  unconvinced,  withdrew  to  her  own  shop, 
and  Mary  turned  away  to  attend  to  new  customers. 
She  went  home  that  night  weary  and  thoughtful.' 
Her  mother  was  a  widow  and  an  invalid ;  there 
were  three  younger  children  in  the  family,  and 

40 


182      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


they  were  all  dependent  for  support  chiefly  on 
Mary.    But  she  did  not  long  despond. 

6.  The  next  day,  as  she  stood  at  her  post  be- 
hind the  counter  of  the  shop,  the  old  lady  of  the 
day  before  entered  and  made  some  large  purchases. 
Then  turning  to  Mary,  she  said :  "It  was  not 
without  a  purpose  that  I  troubled  you  so  yester- 
day." Mary  opened  her  eyes  inquiringly.  "  The 
truth  is,"  resumed  the  old  lady,  "  I  am  in  search 
of  a  person  to  take  charge  of  a  lace  and  thread 
store  in  our  part  of  the  city.  We  are  sadly  in 
want  there  of  such  an  establishment.  I  wished  to 
see  if  you  were  good-tempered  and  accommodat- 
ing ;  and  I  was  so  pleased  with  the  result  of  the 
trial  that  I  have  concluded  to  propose  that  you 
should  take  charge  of  the  new  shop." 

7.  Mary  was  delighted  at  the  prospect;  but 
an  objection  soon  presented  itself.  "  Of  course, 
madam,"  she  said,  "  it  will  require  money  to  com- 
mence such  a  business,  and  that  I  have  not.  I  am 
quite  poor."  "  And  I  am  quite  rich,"  retorted  the 
old  lady,  with  a  smile;  "all  the  risk  shall  be 
mine,  and  all  the  profit  shall  be  yours."  "  But 
how  do  you  know  I  am  qualified  ?"  asked  Mary. 
"  Oh,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  I  have  acquainted  my- 
self with  your  circumstances,  habits  and  capacities. 
You  are  a  good  saleswoman,  as  I  know,  a  good 
accountant,  as  I  learn ;  and,  above  all,  a  good 
daughter.  I  have  seen  your  mother ;  she  approves. 
I  have  seen  your  employer ;  he,  though  reluctant 
to  lose  you,  gives  his  consent.    Now  what  say  you  f 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  183 


8.  To  an  offer  so  advantageous  Mary  could  re- 
turn but  one  reply.  She  took  possession  of  the 
shop,  and,  aided  by  the  credit  of  the  old  lady, 
stocked  the  shelves  with  choice  goods.  She  soon 
became  noted  for  her  exquisite  taste  in  laces.  Her 
gentle  and  unaffected  manners  inspired  confidence 
and  won  hearts.  The  growth  of  the  city  in  five 
years  made  her  shop  one  of  the  most  central  in  the 
principal  street.  Mary  was  prosperous  beyond  her 
heart's  wish,  and  only  labored  on  for  the  benefit 
of  others.  Her  benefactress  lived  to  be  proud  of 
the  sagacity  of  her  choice.  "  It  was  your  good 
temper  that  won  me,"  she  used  often  to  say  to 
Mary. 

9.  And  what  became  of  Laura?  Handsome 
and  accomplished,  she  made  what  the  world  called 
a  "  brilliant  marriage."  But  there  is  an  old 
proverb  which  applies  to  her  case ;  it  is  this : 
"  Praise  a  fair  day  at  night,"  Laura  had  not  been 
married  five  years  when  she  was  separated  from 
her  husband  on  the  plea  of  "  incompatibility  of 
temper."  Poor  Laura !  She  never  could  learn  to 
give  the  soft  answer  which  turneth  away  wrath ; 
and  this,  in  the  married  state,  is  a  fatal  incapacity 
Indeed,  what  is  the  position  or  relation  of  life  in 
which  good  temper  is  not  a  treasure  and  a  charm  5 

"  What  is  the  blooming  tincture  of  the  skin, 
To  peace  of  mind  and  harmony  within? 
What  the  bright  sparkling  of  the  finest  eye, 
To  the  soft  soothing  of  a  calm  reply?" 


184      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXIV. 

Dis-en-chant',  to  free  from  spells.  Tinsel,  a  kind  of  shining  cloth ; 
Rjck'et-y,  affected  with  rickets ;        any  thing  showy. 

weak  ;  imperfect.  Trap'pings,  ornaments. 

Avoid  saying  spere  for  sphere  (sfere) ;  cuss  for  curse;  spile  for  spoil ; 
relum  for  rlalm.  In  such  words  as  helm,  elm,  chasm,  etc.,  some  speakers 
have  a  bad  habit  of  introducing  a  decided  vowel  sound  before  the  m. 

NOTHING  TO  WEAR. 
I. 

Oh,  ladies,  dear  ladies,  the  next  sunny  day- 
Please  trundle  your  hoops  just  out  of  Broadway, 
From  its  whirl  and  its  bustle,  its  fashion  and  pride, 
And  the  temples  of  Trade  which  tower  on  each  side, 
To  the  alleys  and  lanes  where  Misfortune  and  Guilt 
Their  children  have  gathered,  their  city  have  built ; 
Where  Hunger  and  Vice,  like  twin  beasts  of  prey, 

Have  hunted  their  victims  to  gloom  and  despair. 
Raise  the  rich,  dainty  dress,  and  the  fine  broidered  skirt ; 
Pick  your  delicate  way  through  the  dampness  and  dirt ; 

Grope  through  the  dark  dens,  climb  the  rickety  stair 
To  the  garret,  where  wretches,  the  young  and  the  old, 
Half  starved  and  half  naked,  lie  crouched  from  the  cold ! 

II. 

See  those  skeleton  limbs,  those  frost-bitten  feet, 

All  bleeding  and  bruised  by  the  stones  of  the  street ; 

Hear  the  sharp  cry  of  childhood,  the  deep  groans  that  swel" 

Fi'om  the  poor  dying  creature  who  writhes  on  the  floor ; 
Hear  the  curses  that  sound  like  Hope's  dyiug  farewell, 

As  you  sicken  and  shudder  and  fly  from  the  door ; 
Then  home  to  your  wardrobes,  and  say,  if  you  dare — 
Spoiled  children  of  Fashion — you've  nothing  to  wear  ! 

HI. 

And  oh,  if  perchance  there  should  be  a  sphere 
Where  all  is  made  right  which  so  puzzles  us  here ; 


THE  NEW  AMERICAS  FOURTH  REAL  EE.  185 


Where  the  glare  and  the  glitter  and  tinsel  of  Time 
Fade  and  die  in  the  light  of  that  region  sublime  ; 
Where  the  soul,  disenchanted  of  flesh  and  of  sense, 
Unscreened  by  its  trappings,  and  shows,  and  pretense, 
Must  be  clothed,  for  the  life  and  the  service  above, 
With  purity,  truth,  faith,  meekness  and  love, — 
0  daughters  of  Earth  !  foolish  virgins,  beware ! 
Lest  in  that  upper  realm  you  have  nothing  to  wear ! 


FAME. 
I. 

Oh,  who  shall  lightly  say  that  fame 
Is  nothing  but  an  empty  name, 
While  in  that  sound  there  is  a  charm 
The  nerves  to  brace,  the  heart  to  warm, 
As,  thinking  of  the  mighty  dead, 

The  young  from  slothful  couch  shall  start. 
And  yearn,  with  lifted  hands  outspread, 

Like  them  to  act  a  noble  part ! 

II. 

Oh,  who  shall  lightly  say  that  fame 
Is  nothing  but  an  empty  name, 
When,  but  fur  those,  our  mighty  dead, 

All  ages  past  a  blank  would  be, 
Sunk  in  oblivion's  murky  bed, 

A  desert  bare,  a  shipless  sea? 
They  are  the  distant  objects  seen, 
The  lofty  marks  of  what  hath  been. 

III. 

Oh,  who  shall  lightly  say  that  fame 
Is  nothing  but  an  empty  name, 
When  memory  of  the  mighty  dead, 

To  earth-worn  pilgrim's  wistful  eye, 
The  brightest  rays  of  cheering  shed, 

That  point  to  immortality  ! 

in  * 


186       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXV. 

f  lick/eb.,  to  waver  ;  to  flutter.  Tube,  a  hollow  cylinder  ;  a  pipe. 

Plajst'et   (from   a   Greek  word  Re-flect'ed,   thrown    back  as 

meaning  to  wander),  a  celestial  light,  heat,  or  the  like ;  return* 

orb.  ed  as  rays  or  beams. 


THE  ASTRONOMER. 

1.  Astronomy  is  a  word  derived  from  the 
Greek  astron,  a  star,  and  nomos,  a  law  or  rule. 
An  astronomer,  therefore,  is  one  who  studies  the 
laws  of  the  heavenly  orbs,  their  distances  and  the 
motions  by  which  they  are  regulated.    It  is  man, 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  18? 


it  is  mind,  that  gives  to  this  great  spectacle  of  the 
starry  heavens  all  its  true  worth. 

2.  While  the  sun  is  shining  brightly  in  at  my 
window,  I  take  seven  little  brass  balls  and  lay 
them  down  on  the  part  of  the  table  where  the  sun- 
shine falls.  What  do  they  look  like  ?  They  are 
all  very  bright,  and  if  you  look  for  a  moment,  you 
will  see  a  little  image  of  the  sun  in  each  of  them, 
just  as  you  see  the  image  of  your  own  face  in  a 
looking-glass.  But  pull  down  the  blind,  and  what 
do  we  see  ?  The  balls  are  not  bright  now  and  the 
little  suns  have  all  disappeared,  but  the  sun  itself 
is  shining  just  the  same  as  ever. 

3.  Well,  then,  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
the  sun  shines  by  its  own  light,  but  the  balls, 
having  no  light  in  themselves,  could  only  shine  by 
giving  back  the  light  of  the  sun.  In  the  same 
way  a  blazing  fire  or  a  lighted  candle  shines  with 
its  own  light,  and  you  may  have  perhaps  observed 
that  the  candlestick  seemed  to  shine  very  brightly 
too,  just  as  these  little  balls  did.  But  put  out  the 
candle,  and  you  will  see  that  the  candlestick  will 
shine  no  longer,  because  it  has  no  light  in  itself, 
and  could  only  borrow  and  reflect,  or  give  back, 
the  light  thrown  upon  it  by  the  candle  while 
burning. 

4.  Now,  I  wish  you  to  understand  the  difference 
between  an  object  shining  with  its  own  and  with 
the  light  of  any  other  bright  object  shining  upou 
it,  which  is  called  reflected  light.  The  sun  shiues 
with  its  own  light.    The  fixed  stars  shine  with 


188 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


their  own  light.  They  are  too  far  from  the  sun  tc 
get  much  of  its  light.  If  I  put  one  of  these  brass 
balls  down  close  beside  a  lighted  candle,  it  may 
shine  brightly  enough,  but  if  I  put  it  far  away 
into  a  dark  corner  of  the  room,  it  will  perhaps 
not  shine  at  all,  or  at  most  very  dimly. 

5.  But  the  fixed  stars  do  not  need  the  sun's 
light,  for  they  are  all  suns  and  have  light  of  their 
own,  though  they  look  smaller  than  the  sun,  being 
so  much  farther  away.  The  planets,  however,  do 
not  shine  with  their  own  light,  but  reflect  the  light 
of  the  sun  in  the  same  way  as  the  little  brass  balls 
did ;  and  the  planets  keep  moving  round  about  the 
sun,  receiving  from  it  both  light  and  heat. 

6.  Here,  then,  is  another  lesson  for  you  to  keep 
in  mind  :  that  the  principal  difference  between  the 
fixed  stars  and  the  planets  is  that  the  former  shine 
with  their  own  light  and  the  latter  with  light  bor- 
rowed from  the  sun.  But  there  is  still  another 
difference :  the  fixed  stars,  which  are  very  nearly 
all  you  can  see  in  the  sky  on  a  clear  night,  are 
stars  that  twinkle,  but  the  stars  we  call  planets 
shine  with  a  steady  light,  and  do  not  twinkle  or 
flicker  like  the  others. 

7.  The  planets  are  much  nearer  to  us  than  the 
twinkling  stars.  These  last  are  called  fixed  stars, 
because  they  are  always  seen  in  nearly  the  same 
places,  while  the  planets  are  constantly  changing 
their  places  in  the  sky.  There  are  eleven  of  these 
planets ;  but  four  of  them  are  smaller  than  the  rest, 
and  two  are  nearer  to  the  sun  than  our  earth. 


THE  SEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  189 


LESSON  LXVI. 

Dor'makt,  sleeping.  !  Sash,  a  window-frame. 
Prai'rie  (pra 're),  a  large  natural     Torpid,  numb ;  sluggish. 

meadow,  or  tract  of  land  bare  1  Ver'meil,  vermilion. 

of  trees.  Yearn,  to  feel  pain  or  desire. 


COME,  SUNSHINE,  COME! 
I. 

Come,  sunshine,  come  !  thee  Nature  calls ! 

Give  to  the  grape  its  vermeil  hue, 
Dispel  the  frost,  the  cloud,  the  storm — 


Come,  sunshine,  come !  the  yea 


r  renew 


II. 

The  grain  lies  dormant  in  the  soil, 

The  bird  sings  from  the  withered  tree, 

The  ice-bound  brook,  the  buried  flowers, 
Tarrv  and  watch,  and  long  for  thee. 


190      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


III. 

Come,  sunshine,  come  !  the  torpid  Earth 

Beneath  thy  kisses  will  awake; 
Her  blush,  her  bloom,  shall  truly  tell 

She  loves  thee  for  thy  own  love's  sake. 

IV. 

Lo,  at  the  opened  sash,  the  poor ! 

Waiting  for  thee,  their  being's  sum ! 
Cold  their  abode  and  scant  their  store — 

Come  and  relieve  them,  sunshine,  come! 

V. 

Mountain  and  vale,  and  desert  waste, 
Prairie  and  wood,  and  sea-bound  isle, 

Herb,  tree  and  insect,  roof  and  spire, 
Kindle  to  life  beneath  thy  smile. 

VI. 

Pleasure  and  love  thy  coming  wait, 
Poets  and  birds  thy  coming  sing; 

Thy  quickening  kiss  creation  needs ; 

Come,  sunshine,  come :  we  yearn  for  spring ! 


A-byss'  (a-bis'),  a  depth  without 

a  bottom  ;  a  gulf. 
A/be-a,  the  surface  of  any  figure 

or  space ;  any  open  surface. 
Bbea  e/ees, waves  broken  by  rocks. 
De-ceiv'i-ty,  a  slope. 
Dense,  thick  ;  compact. 


LESSON  LXVII 

Dl'A-MOND 


or  Dia'mond,  the 
most  valuable  of  all  precious 
stones. 

Em'eb-ald,  a  precious  stone  of  a 

green  color. 
Fan-tas'tic,  imaginary 
Tbav/ebse,  to  cross. 


NIAGARA  AND  THE  GREAT  LAKES. 

1.  The  most  striking  feature  of  North  America 
is  the  vast  chain  of  lakes  which  separates  Canada 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


191 


from  the  territory  of  the  United  States.  Lake 
Superior,  the  greatest  of  these  inland  seas,  is  the 
largest  body  of  fresh  water  in  the  world,  It  covers 
an  area  nearly  equal  to  that  of  England.  Ships 
of  the  largest  size  traverse  its  waters ;  and,  in  vio- 
lent gales,  its  waves  rise  as  high  as  those  of  the 
ocean. 

2.  The  four  other  principal  lakes  are,  Lakes 
Huron,  Michigan,  Erie  and  Ontario,  from  the 
last  of  which  issue  the  surplus  waters  of  the  whole, 
forming  the  noble  river  St.  Lawrence,  which  runs 
an  uninterrupted  course  of  seven  hundred  miles, 
till  it  reaches  the  Atlantic.  There  is  thus  a  con- 
tinuous current  from  the  most  remote  tributary  of 
Lake  Superior  to  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  a  dis- 
tance of  more  than  two  thousand  miles. 

3.  All  these  lakes  are  now  traversed  by  steam 
and  sailing  vessels,  which  ply  in  every  direction, 
and,  by  connecting  canals  and  rivers,  are  year  by 
year  developing  the  vast  resources  of  the  country. 
Lake  Erie  and  Lake  Ontario  are  united  by  the 
river  Niagara,  the  length  of  which  is  thirty-three 
and  a  half  miles.  On  this  river,  about  twenty 
miles  from  Lake  Erie,  the  celebrated  falls  are  situ- 
ated. They  form  one  of  the  great  wonders  of  the 
world,  and  are,  perhaps,  the  most  sublime  spectacle 
the  human  eye  has  ever  beheld.  Here  an  im- 
mense river,  after  receiving  the  surplus  waters  of 
four  vast  lakes,  thunders  in  a  sea-like  flood  over 
a  lofty  precijnce  into  the  abyss  beneath. 

4.  When  the  Niagara  issues  from  Lake  Erie,  it 


192        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


flows  tranquilly  along,  bordered  by  beautiful  banks, 
till  within  a  mile  of  the  falls.  There  the  water 
begins  to  ripple ;  and  a  little  farther  on  it  breaks 
into  a  series  of  dashing  and  foaming  rapids,  as  if 
leaping  and  rejoicing  in  the  prospect  of  its  ap- 
proaching majestic  plunge.  The  stream  then  be- 
comes more  tranquil,  though  rolling  with  prodig- 
ious rapidity,  till  at  last  it  reaches  the  brink  of  the 
great  precipice.    Then  comes  the  awful  plunge. 

5.  It  is  the  spectacle  of  a  falling  sea.  The  eye  is 
filled  almost  to  its  utmost  reach  by  the  rushing  of 
the  mighty  flood :  clouds  of  spray  occupy  the 
atmosphere ;  and,  above  all,  the  tremendous  roar 
of  the  clashing  waters  is  heard  filling  the  vault  of 
heaven. 

6.  The  fall  itself  is  divided  into  two  unequal 
portions  by  a  piece  of  land  called  Goat  Island. 
The  American  Fall,  on  the  one  side  of  Goat 
Island,  is  one  hundred  and  sixty-four  feet  high  ; 
but  the  Canadian  or  Horse-shoe  Fall  is  semicir- 
cular in  form,  and  the  grander  of  the  two. 

7.  Its  breadth  is  two  thousand  feet,  and  its 
height  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  It  falls  in  one 
dense  mass  of  green  water,  calm,  unbroken,  re- 
sistless;  though  at  the  edges  it  separates  into 
drops,  which  fall  like  a  shower  of  diamonds  spark- 
ling in  the  sun,  and  at  times  so  lightly  as  to  be 
driven  up  again  by  the  current  of  air  ascending 
from  the  deep  below,  where  all  is  agitation  and 
foam. 

8.  Looked  at  from  below,  the  scene  is  sublime, 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  193 


strange  and  awful.  The  mighty  river  comes  tum- 
bling over  the  brow  of  a  hill ;  and,  as  you  look 
up  to  it,  it  seems  as  if  rushing  to  overwhelm  you ; 
then  meeting  with  the  rocks  as  it  pours  down  the 
declivity,  it  boils  and  frets  like  ocean  breakers. 

9.  Huge  mounds  of  water,  smooth,  transpar- 
ent and  gleaming  like  an  emerald,  rise  up  and 
bound  over  some  impediment,  then  break  into 
silver  foam,  which  leaps  into  the  air  in  the  most 
graceful  and  fantastic  forms.  A  little  below  the 
falls,  the  Niagara  resumes  its  usual  soft  and  gentle 
beauty.  The  banks  are  high  and  beautifully 
wooded,  and  the  river  flows  along  in  its  course  to 
Lake  Ontario,  grandly  and  tranquilly. 


LESSON  LXVIII. 

Ln-ex'o-ra-ble,  unrelenting.         {  Re-dress7,  remedy;  relief. 
Re-doubt'  (re-clout7),  an  outwork;  :  Re-tal-i-a'tion,  the  return  01 
a  fortress.  I      like  for  like  ;  revenge ;  requital. 

NOBLE  REVENGE. 

1.  A  young  officer  had  so  far  forgotten  himself, 
in  a  moment  of  irritation,  as  to  strike  a  private 
soldier  full  of  personal  dignity  and  distinguished 
for  his  courage.  The  inexorable  laws  of  military 
discipline  forbade  to  the  injured  soldier  any  re- 
dress— he  could  look  for  no  retaliation  by  acts. 
Words  only  were  at  his  command,  and,  in  a  tumult 
of  indignation,  as  he  turned  away,  the  soldier  said 
to  his  officer  that  he  would  "  make  him  repent  it." 

2.  This,  wearing  the  shape  of  a  menace,  natu- 

41 


194      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 

rally  rekindled  the  officer's  anger,  and  intercepted 
any  disposition  which  might  be  rising  within  him 
toward  a  sentiment  of  remorse ;  and  thus  the  irri- 
tation between  the  two  young  men  grew  hotter 
than  before. 

3.  Some  weeks  after  this  a  partial  action  took 
place  with  the  enemy.  Suppose  yourself  a  spec- 
tator, and  looking  down  into  a  valley  occupied  by 
the  two  armies.  They  are  facing  each  other,  you 
see,  in  martial  array.  But  it  is  no  more  than  a 
skirmish  which  is  going  on ;  in  the  course  of 
which,  however,  an  occasion  suddenly  arises  for  a 
desperate  service.  A  redoubt,  which  has  fallen 
into  the  enemy's  hand,  must  be  recaptured  at  any 
price,  and  under  circumstances  of  all  but  hopeless 
difficulty. 

4.  A  strong  party  has  volunteered  for  the  serv- 
ice; there  is  a  cry  for  somebody  to  head  them; 
you  see  a  soldier  step  out  from  the  ranks  to  as- 
sume this  dangerous  leadership.  The  party  moves 
rapidly  forward  ;  in  a  few  minutes  it  is  swallowed 
up  from  your  eyes  in  clouds  of  smoke ;  for  one 
half  hour,  from  behind  these  clouds,  you  receive 
visible  reports  of  bloody  strife — fierce  repeating 
signals,  flashes  from  the  guns,  rolling  musketry, 
and  exulting  hurrahs,  advancing  or  receding,  slack- 
ening or  redoubling. 

5.  At  length  all  is  over ;  the  redoubt  has  been 
recovered ;  that  which  was  lost  is  found  again ; 
the  jewel  which  had  been  made  captive  is  ran- 
somed with  blood.    Crimsoned  with  glorious  gore, 


THE  SEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  REABER.  19c 


the  wreck  of  the  conquering  party  is  relieved  and 
at  liberty  to  return.  From  the  river  you  see  it 
ascending. 

6.  The  plume-crested  officer  in  command  rushes 
forward,  with  his  left  hand  raising  his  hat  in  hom- 
age to  the  blackened  fragments  of  what  was  once  a 
flag,  whilst  with  his  right  hand  he  seizes  that  of 
the  leader,  though  no  more  than  a  private  from 
the  ranks.  That  perplexes  you  not ;  mystery  you 
see  none  in  that;  for  distinctions  of  order  perish, 
ranks  are  confounded,  "  high  and  low  "  are  words 
without  a  meaning,  and  to  wreck  goes  every  no- 
tion or  feeling  that  divides  the  noble  from  the 
noble,  or  the  brave  man  from  the  brave. 

7.  But  wherefore  is  it  that  now,  when  suddenly 
they  wheel  into  mutual  recognition,  suddenly  they 
pause  ?  This  soldier,  this  officer — who  are  they  ? 
Oh,  reader,  once  before  they  had  stood  face  to  face 
— the  soldier  that  was  struck,  the  officer  that 
struck  him.  Once  again  they  are  meeting,  and 
the  gaze  of  armies  is  upon  them.  If  for  a  moment 
a  doubt  divides  them,  in  a  moment  the  doubt  has 
perished.  One  glance  exchanged  between  them 
publishes  the  forgiveness  that  is  sealed  for  ever. 

8.  As  one  who  recovers  a  brother  whom  he  has 
accounted  dead,  the  officer  sprang  forward,  threw 
his  arms  around  the  neck  of  the  soldier,  and  kissed 
him,  as  if  he  were  some  martvr  glorified  by  that 
shadow  of  death  from  which  he  was  returning ; 
whilst,  on  his  part,  the  soldier,  stepping  back,  and 
carrying  his  open  hand  through  the  beautiful  mo- 


196       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


tions  of  the  military  salute  to  a  superior,  makes 
this  immortal  answer — that  answer  which  shut  up 
forever  the  memory  of  the  indignity  offered  to  him, 
even  while  for  the  last  time  alluding  to  it — "  Sir," 
he  said,  "  I  told  you  before  that  I  would  make  you 
repent  it !" 


LESSON  LXIX. 


Conjure  (kun'jiir),  to  raise  by 

magic  arts. 
Cor-re-spond'ence,  letters. 
Ctjt'ler-y,  edged  instruments  of 

steel. 

Ex-ploits',  heroic  or  daring  deeds. 


Lo/co-mo/-tive,    moving  from 

place  to  place. 
Pat'ri-mo-ny,  an  estate  held  by 

inheritance. 
Pho'to-graph  (graf ),  a  drawing 

produced  by  the  action  of  light. 


WHAT  A  COMMON  MAN  MAY  SAY. 

1.  I  am  lodged  in  a  house  that  affords  me  con- 
veniences and  comforts  which  even  a  king  could 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  197 


not  command  some  centuries  ago.  There  are 
ships  crossing  the  seas  in  every  direction,  some 
propelled  by  steam  and  some  by  the  wind,  to  bring 
what  is  useful  to  me  from  all  parts  of  the  earth. 

2.  In  China  men  are  gathering  the  tea-leaf  for 
me  ;  in  the  Southern  States  they  are  planting  cotton 
for  me ;  in  the  West  India  Islands  and  in  Brazil 
they  are  raisins:  my  suo'ar  and  my  coffee  ;  in  Italy 
they  are  feeding  silk-worms  for  me ;  at  home  they 
are  shearing  sheep  to  make  me  clothing ;  powerful 
steam-engines  are  spinning  and  weaving  for  me, 
and  making  cutlery  for  me,  and  pumping  the 
mines  that  minerals  useful  to  me  may  be  procured. 

3.  My  patrimony  was  small,  yet  I  have  locomo- 
tive engines  running  day  and  night  on  all  railroads 
to  carry  my  correspondence.  I  have  canals  to 
bring  the  coal  for  my  winter  fire.  Then  I  have 
telegraphic  lines  which  tell  me  what  has  happened 
many  thousand  miles  off,  the  same  day  of  its  occur- 
rence ;  which  flash  a  message  for  me  in  a  minute  to 
the  bedside  of  a  sick  relative  hundreds  of  miles 
distant. 

4.  And  I  have  editors  and  printers  who  daily 
send  me  an  account  of  what  is  going  on  throughout 
the  world  amongst  all  these  peoj)le  who  serve  me. 
By  the  photograph  I  procure  in  a  few  seconds,  at  a 
small  expense,  a  perfect  likeness  of  myself  or  friend, 
drawn  without  human  touch  by  the  simple  agency 
of  light.  And,  then,  in  a  corner  of  my  house  I 
have  boohs  ! — the  miracle  of  all  my  possessions, 
more  wonderful    than    the  wishing  cap  of  the 

41  * 


198       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


Arabian  tales,  for  they  transport  me  instantly 
not  only  to  all  places,  but  to  all  times. 

5.  By  my  books  I  can  conjure  up  before  me  to 
vivid  existence  all  the  great  and  good  men  of  old. 
and  for  my  own  private  satisfaction  I  can  make 
them  act  over  again  the  most  renowned  of  all  their 
exploits.  In  a  word,  from  the  equator  to  the  pole, 
and  from  the  beginning  of  time  until  now,  by  my 
books  I  can  be  where  I  please. 

6.  This  picture  is  not  overcharged,  and  might 
be  much  extended ;  such  being  the  miracle  of 
God's  goodness  and  providence  that  each  individ- 
ual of  the  civilized  millions  that  cover  the  earth 
may  have  nearly  the  same  enjoyments  as  if  he 
were  the  single  lord  of  all ! 


LESSON  LXX 


Ecs-tat'ic,  rapturous. 
La'va  (la'va),  liquid  matter  dis- 
charged by  volcanoes. 


Mart,  a  market. 
Serf'dom,  state  of  slavery. 
Sor'did,  base ;  niggardly. 


UNCKOWNED  KINGS. 
I. 

O  ye  uncrowned  but  kingly  kings! 
Made  royal  by  the  brain  and  heart ; 
Of  all  earth's  wealth  the  noblest  part, 
Yet  reckoned  nothing  in  the  mart 
Where  men  know  naught  but  sordid  things- 
All  hail  to  you,  most  kingly  kings! 

II. 

O  ye  uncrowned  but  kingly  kings! 
Whose  breath  and  words  of  living  flame 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  199 


Have  waked  slaved  nations  from  their  shame 
And  bid  them  rise  in  manhood's  name, 
Swift  as  the  curved  bow  backward  springs, 
To  follow  you,  most  kingly  kings! 

III. 

O  ye  uncrowned  but  kingly  kings! 
Whose  strong  right  arm  hath  oft  been  bared 
Where  fires  of  righteous  battle  glared, 
And  where  all  odds  of  wrong  ye  dared  ! 
To  think  on  you  the  heart  upsprings, 
O  ye  uncrowned  but  kingly  kings  ! 

IV. 

O  ye  uncrowned  but  kingly  kings ! 
Whose  burning  songs,  like  lava  poured, 
Have  smitten  like  a  two-edged  sword 
Sent  forth  by  heaven's  avenging  Lord 
To  purge  the  earth,  where  serfdom  clings 
To  all  but  you,  O  kingly  kings! 

V. 

O  ye  uncrowned  but  kingly  kings! 
To  whose  ecstatic  gaze  alone 
The  beautiful  by  heaven  is  shown, 
And  who  have  made  it  all  your  own  ; 
Your  lavish  hand  around  us  flings 
Earth's  richest  wreaths,  O  noble  kings ! 

VI. 

O  ye  uncrowned  but  kingly  kings ! 
The  heart  leaps  wildly  at  your  thought, 
And  the  brain  fires  as  if  it  caught 
Shreds  of  your  mantle:  ye  have  fought 
Not  vainly,  if  your  glory  brings 
A  lingering  light  to  earth,  O  kings ! 


200         THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXI. 


Am'bush,  a  lying  in  wait  for. 
Es'cort,  safeguard  on  a  journey. 
In-ter-cede',  to  plead  in  favor  of. 


Mas'sa-cre  (-ker),  slaughter. 
Ke-voked/,  called  back. 
Whoop  (hoop),  a  shout  of  pursuit 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH. 


1.  Born  in  England  in  the  year  1579,  John 
Smith  entered  while  yet  young  upon  a  life  of  ad- 
venture. Before  he  was  thirty  years  old  he  had 
founded  the  colony  of  Jamestown  in  Virginia. 

2.  Some  seven  years  afterward,  having  returned 
to  England,  he  set  sail  once  more  for  America,  and 
examined  the  coast  of  that  region  to  which  he  was 
first  to  give  the  name  of  New  England.  He  dis- 
covered the  Isles  of  Shoals  off  the  coast  of  New 


THE  SEW  AMEBIC  Ay  FOURTH  READER.  201 


Hampshire ;  a  small  monument  on  one  of  the 
islands  still  records  his  visit. 

3.  He  gave  the  name  of  Cape  Ann  to  the 
northernmost  cape  of  Massachusetts.  Having 
landed  with  his  men  on  Eastern  Point,  a  neck  of 
land  which  helps  to  form  what  is  now  the  town 
of  Gloucester,  he  passed  some  time  there  for  the 
purpose  of  recruiting  and  taking  in  fresh  water. 

4.  But  it  was  in  Virginia,  which  region  he 
visited  in  the  spring  of  1607,  that  Smith  met  with 
his  most  surprising  adventures.  He  became  the 
leading  man  in  the  colony  which  he  founded  on 
the  banks  of  the  James  River,  and  here  he  had 
many  narrow  escapes  from  the  attacks  of  hostile 
Indians. 

5.  On  one  occasion  he  was  going  through  a  forest 
with  an  Indian  ^uide,  when  the  latter  uttered  the 
well-known  war-whoop.  Smith  seized  him  and 
held  him  fast,  and,  at  the  same  instant,  an  arrow 
struck  Smith  on  the  thigh,  but  without  force 
enough  to  harm  him  much.  He  soon  found  he 
was  in  the  midst  of  an  ambush  of  Indians,  and 
looking  up,  saw  two  bows  bent  to  discharge  their 
arrows  at  him.  Taking  the  pistols  from  his  belt,  he 
fired  several  shots  which  kept  the  enemy  in  check, 
but  soon  a  large  number  of  Indians  pressed  upon 
him,  and  in  trying  to  keep  them  at  bay  he  stum- 
bled and  was  overpowered. 

6.  Smith  was  conducted  before  Powhatan,  the 
great  Indian  chief.  A  council  wavS  held,  and  it 
was  resolved  that  the  white  man  should  die.  The 


202 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


chief  was  about  to  give  the  fatal  signal,  when  out 
from  a  silent  group  of  women  ran  a  girl,  not  more 
than  twelve  years  old,  who  rushed  toward  the 
docmed  and  prostrate  prisoner.  More  quickly 
than  the  incident  can  be  described  she  sj}rang 
forward  between  the  uplifted  clubs  of  the  execu- 
tioners and  the  head  of  their  intended  victim.  She 
knelt  upon  the  ground  by  his  side  and  shielded 
him  affectionately  with  her  arms. 

7.  At  so  unexpected  an  event  there  was  an  out- 
cry of  wonder  from  the  savage  multitude.  All 
looked  eagerly  to  see  who  the  damsel  was  that  had 
taken  so  strange  an  interest  in  the  prisoner,  and 
had  so  boldly  presumed  to  interfere.  They  saw 
that  it  was  Pocahontas,  the  beloved  daughter  of 
their  chief.  He  was  so  fond  of  his  little  girl  that 
he  always  found  it  very  hard  to  refuse  any  request 
she  earnestly  urged,  and  now,  when  she  begged  for 
the  white  man's  life,  and  pleaded  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  that  he  might  be  saved,  the  great  chief,  as 
well  as  his  companions,  felt  disposed  to  let  her  have 
her  way.    Her  prayer  for  mercy  was  granted. 

8.  The  sentence  of  death  was  revoked.  Smith  was 
raised  from  the  ground,  released  from  his  bonds,  and 
presented  as  a  slave  to  the  maiden  whose  timely  in- 
terposition had  saved  his  life.  From  that  day  for- 
ward he  was  to  belong  to  her,  to  go  where  she  sent 
him  and  to  obey  her  wishes  in  everything.  But  the 
chief,  supposing  that  Pocahontas  must  have  been 
impelled  by  some  spiritual  power  to  rescue  Smith, 
adopted  him  as  his  son,  took  him  into  his  family, 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  203 


and  at  last  sent  him  back  to  Jamestown  under  an 
escort, 

9.  Here  Smith  soon  had  an  opportunity  of  re- 
quiting Pocahontas  for  her  generous  conduct. 
The  white  men  had  captured  several  Indians. 
The  chief  sent  his  favorite  daughter  to  inter- 
cede with  Smith  for  their  release.  Smith  could 
refuse  all  other  petitioners,  but  not  Pocahon- 
tas. He  granted  her  request.  He  subsequently 
owed  his  life  a  second  time  to  her  good  offices. 
She  warned  him  and  his  party  of  an  intended 
massacre  by  the  Indians,  and  her  warning  was  so 
seasonable  that  the  white  men  all  escaped. 

10.  In  the  year  1609  Smith  quitted  the  shores 
of  Virginia  for  ever.  He  returned  to  England, 
wrote  books,  and  in  1614  sailed  again  for  America. 
Returning  to  England,  he  died  there  at  the  age  of 
fifty-two.  As  for  Pocahontas,  she  married  John 
Polfe,  a  young  Englishman.  With  him  she  visited 
England,  where  she  received  great  attention.  Her 
conduct  as  a  wife  and  mother  was  worthy  of  all 
praise. 


THE  PLACE  TO  DIE. 

Death  is  a  common  friend  or  foe,  as  different  men  may  hold, 
And  at  its  summons  each  must  go,  the  timid  and  the  bold; 
But  when  the  spirit,  free  and  warm,  deserts  it,  as  it  must, 
What  matter  where  the  lifeless  form  dissolves  again  to  dust? 

'Twere  sweet,  indeed,  to  close  our  eyes  with  those  we  cherish  near, 
And,  wafted  upward  by  their  sighs,  soar  to  some  calmer  .sphere ; 
But  whether  on  the  scaffold  high,  or  in  the  battle's  van, 
The  fittest  place  where  man  can  die  is  where  he  dies  for  man  ! 


204        THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXII. 


Car'bon,  pure  charcoal. 
Com-bus/ti-ble,  that  may  burn  or 

be  burnt. 
Crude,  raw  ;  coarse ;  unripe. 
Den'si-ty,  thickness;  closeness. 
Kilns  (kilz),  stoves  or  furnaces. 


Mai/le-a-ble,  ductile;  that  may 
be  flattened  or  drawn  out  by 
being  beaten  with  a  hammer. 

Me-te-or'-ic,  relating  to  meteors. 

Sat'u-rat-ed  (-rat-),  filled  full. 

Ui/ti-mate-ly,  finally. 


IRON. 

1.  The  splendid  color  of  gold,  its  great  density, 
its  imperishable  nature  and  its  comparative  scarcity 
have  obtained  for  it  the  epithet  of  precious, 
although,  in  point  of  utility  to  man,  iron  has  far 
higher  and  more  numerous  claims  to  such  a  title. 

2.  The  innumerable  applications  of  iron  in  our 
own  day  result  from  the  various  useful  properties 
of  this  metal.  It  can  be  brought  to  a  fluid  state, 
and  made  to  assume  whatever  form  has  been  given 
to  the  mold  designed  to  receive  it ;  it  can  be  drawn 
out  into  bars  of  any  degree  of  strength,  or  into 
wires  of  any  degree  of  fineness  ;  it  can  be  spread 
out  into  plates  or  sheets  ;  it  can  be  twisted  and  bent 
in  all  directions  ;  it  can  be  made  hard  or  soft,  sharp 
or  blunt. 

3.  Iron  may  be  regarded  as  the  parent  of  agri- 
culture and  of  the  useful  arts,  for  without  it  the 
plowshare  could  not  have  rendered  the  earth  fer- 
tile. Iron  furnishes  the  scythe  and  the  pruning- 
hook,  as  well  as  the  sword  and  the  cannon  :  it  forms 
the  chisel,  the  needle  and  the  graver ;  springs  of 
various  kinds,  from  the  spring  of  a  watch  to  that 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  205 


of  a  carriage  ;  the  chain,  the  anchor  and  the  com- 
pass ; — all  owe  their  origin  to  this  most  useful  of  all 
the  metals. 

4.  We  can  scarcely  move  without  meeting  with 
new  and  surprising  proofs  of  the  fact  that  we  are 
indeed  living  in  the  age  of  iron.  We  travel  on 
land  by  iron  railroads,  drawn  by  engines  of  iron  ; 
we  pass  over  bridges  constructed  of  iron,  and  often 
suspended  by  iron  rods ;  our  steamboats  are  of 
iron ;  our  pens  are  of  iron ;  our  bedsteads,  chairs, 
stools,  and  ornaments  are  frequently  of  iron ; 
clumsy  wooden  gates  are  being  superseded  by 
light  and  elegant  structures  of  iron ;  buildings 
of  all  kinds  are  supported  on  pillars  of  iron, 
and,  to  crown  all,  we  build  dwelling-houses  and 
light-houses  of  iron,  and  transport  them  to  the 
most  distant  parts  of  the  globe. 

5.  Iron  is  more  extensivelv  diffused  throughout 
the  crust  of  the  earth  than  any  other  metal,  and 
its  importance  is  equal  to  its  abundance,  for  there 
is  no  other  substance  which  possesses  so  many 
valuable  properties,  or  is  so  well  adapted  to  form 
the  instruments  which  have  assisted  to  bring  about, 
and  still  continue  to  maintain,  the  dominion  of 
mind  over  matter. 

6.  Iron  in  a  purely  metallic  form  is  of  rare 
occurrence,  though  in  different  parts  of  the  world 
several  large  masses  of  metallic  iron  are  known  to 
exist,  and  other  similar  masses  have  at  various 
times  been  observed  to  fall  from  the  atmosphere. 
In  South  America  there  is  a  mass  of  meteoric  iron 

42 


206      THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


estimated  at  thirty-six  thousand  pounds'  weight, 
and  one  in  Siberia  of  sixteen  thousand  pounds'. 

7.  The  first  process  in  the  manufacture  of  iron 
is  roasting  the  ore,  which  is  done  ;ji  kilns  or  fur- 
naces, or  in  large  heaps  in  the  open  air.  The  effect 
of  roasting  the  ore  is  to  drive  off  the  water,  sul- 
phur and  arsenic  which  it  generally  contains.  It 
is  then  mixed  with  limestone  and  coke  and  brought 
to  the  blast  furnace,  which  is  the  most  important 
feature  in  an  iron-work,  rising  to  the  height  of 
from  fifty  to  seventy  feet,  and  at  times  lighting  up 
the  country  around  like  a  small  volcano. 

8.  The  coke,  ironstone  and  limestone  ultimately 
form  two  liquid  products  at  the  bottom  of  the  fur- 
nace. One  of  these  is  glass,  composed  of  the  lime- 
stone in  combination  with  the  earthy  impurities 
of  the  ore.  This,  when  drawn  off  and  left  to  cool, 
forms  slag  or  cinder.  The  other  product  is  liquid 
iron,  combined  with  the  carbon  of  the  fuel. 

9.  As  the  materials  gradually  descend  from  the 
top  to  the  bottom  of  the  furnace,  the  ore,  being 
thus  for  several  hours  in  contact  with  the  burning 
fuel,  is  almost  saturated  with  carbon  when  it  reaches 
the  lower  or  hottest  part  of  the  furnace.  Here 
the  melted  iron  is  drawn  off  at  intervals  of  from 
eight  to  twelve  hours.  This  work  is  continued 
with  double  sets  of  attendants  day  and  night, 
without  intermission,  for  two  or  three  years,  for 
if  the  furnace  were  allowed  to  cool,  the  contents 
would  become  solid  and  the  furnace  be  ruined. 

10.  Previous  to  each  cast,  a  channel,  called  th<? 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  207 


sow,  is  formed  in  a  bed  of  sand  in  front  of  the  fur- 
nace. Branching  off  from  the  sow,  at  right  angles 
to  it,  are  a  number  of  smaller  channels,  called  pigs. 
Into  these  the  melted  metal  is  run.  The  bars 
when  cooled  are  in  the  state  known  commercially 
as  pig  iron.  The  general  name  of  the  metal  in 
this  state  is  cast  iron. 

11.  Iron  is  employed  in  the  arts  in  three  dif- 
ferent states :  as  crude  or  cast  iron,  as  steel,  and  as 
wrought  iron,  the  difference  depending  upon  the 
relative  amount  of  carbon  with  which  the  metal  is 
combined.  Cast  iron  contains  a  larger  proportion 
of  carbon  than  steel,  and  steel  more  than  wrought 
or  malleable  iron,  the  best  malleable  iron  having 
only  a  very  minute  portion  of  carbon.  The  pres- 
ence of  carbon  in  cast  iron  renders  the  metal  more 
fluid  when  melted,  and,  consequently,  better  suited 
for  casting  in  molds. 

12.  When  converted  into  ordinary  machinery, 
cast  iron  originally  worth  $5  becomes  worth  about 
$20 ;  into  large  ornamental  work,  $225 ;  into 
buckles  and  Berlin  work,  $3000,  and  into  buttons, 
$25,000.  A  bar  of  wrought  iron,  originally  worth 
$5,  becomes  worth  about  $12  when  worked  into 
horse-shoes  ;  $150  when  made  into  table-knives ; 
$350  when  turned  into  needles ;  $3250  when  in 
the  form  of  penknife  blades ;  and,  to  crown  all,  it 
becomes  worth  $250,000  when  manufactured  into 
watch-springs.  It  is  susceptible  of  a  high  polish. 
It  is  combustible  when  minutely  divided,  as  in  the 
state  of  filings. 


208 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXIII. 


Dells,  shady  hollows. 
Fells,  barren  or  stony  hills. 
Heath'y,  full  of  heath,  a  shrub 
that  bears  a  flower. 


In-tense7,  close;  ardent. 
League  (leag),  the  length  of  three 
miles. 

Shone  (sh6n  or  shdn),  did  shine. 


LITTLE  CHILDREN. 


Sporting  through  the  forest  wide  ; 
Playing  by  the  water's  side ; 
Wandering  o'er  the  heathy  fells; 
Down  within  the  woodland  dells ; 
All  among  the  mountains  wild, 
Dwelleth  many  a  little  child. 
Wheresoe'er  a  foot  hath  gon3, 
Wheresoe'er  the  sun  hath  shone 
On  a  league  of  peopled  ground, 
Little  children  may  be  found. 


THE  NEW  ' AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  209 


II. 

Blessings  on  them !  they  in  me 
Move  a  kindly  sympathy, 
With  their  wishes,  hopes  and  fears, 
With  their  laughter  and  their  tears, 
With  their  wonder  so  intense 
And  their  small  experience. 

III. 

Little  children,  not  alone 
On  the  wide  earth  are  ye  kuown, 
'Mid  its  labors  and  its  cares, 
'Mid  its  sufferings  and  its  snares! 
Free  from  sorrow,  free  from  strife, 
In  the  world  of  love  and  life, 
Where  no  sinful  thing  hath  trod, 
In  the  presence  of  your  God, 
Spotless,  blameless,  glorified, 
Little  children,  ye  abide. 


LESSON  LXXIV. 


Co-eos'sal  (from  Colossus,  a  gi- 
gantic statue),  huge  in  size. 

Con-ven'tion,  an  assembly. 

Cor'ri-dor,  a  passage  :  a  gallery. 

Cov'e-nant  (kilv'e-nant),  a  mu- 
tual agreement. 


Des/pot,  an  absolute  sovereign. 
Guii/lo-tine     (ghil'lo-teen),  a 

machine  for  beheading  persons. 
I-ron'i-cal,  spoken  in  irony  or 

sarcastic  praise. 
Pro-scriued7,  doomed ;  outlawed. 


In  Ro-land'  accent  the  last  syllable  ;  pronounce  sacrificed  sak'ri-jlzd. 
LAST  DAYS  OF  MADAME  ROLAND. 

1.  During  the  Eeign  of  Terror  in  France, 
Madame  Roland  was  brought  before  the  Con- 
vention on  an  absurd  charge  of  treasonable  cor- 
respondence with    England.     By   her  presence 

42* 


210       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


of  mind,  her  acuteness  and  her  wit  she  baffled 
and  mortified  her  accusers.  But  on  the  31st  of 
May,  1793,  she  was  again  arrested  and  sent  to 
prison.  As  an  officer  was  conducting  her,  he 
asked  if  she  wished  to  have  the  windows  of  the 
carriage  closed.  "  No,"  replied  she;  "oppressed 
innocence  should  not  take  the  attitude  of  crime 
and  shame.  I  do  not  fear  the  looks  of  honest  men, 
and  I  brave  those  of  my  enemies." 

2.  The  cowards  and  ruffians  who  then  had  con- 
trol of  public  affairs  in  France  were  afraid  of  the 
talents  and  the  influence  of  this  woman.  They  de- 
termined on  her  death.  They  gave  her  a  trial,  but 
it  was  a  mere  mockery  of  justice,  a  solemn  farce.  In 
her  address  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  on 
the  8th  of  November,  1793,  she  spoke  as  follows : 

3.  "  Not  to  its  own  times  merely  does  the  gen- 
erous mind  feel  that  it  belongs.  It  comprehends 
in  its  regard  the  whole  human  race,  and  extends 
its  care  even  to  posterity.  It  was  my  lot  to  be  the 
friend  of  men  proscribed  and  sacrificed  by  those 
who  hated  them  for  their  superiority.  And  I  must 
perish  in  my  turn !  I  have  a  double  claim  to 
death  at  your  hands.  When  Innocence  walks  to 
the  scaffold  at  the  command  of  Error  and  of  Guilt, 
every  step  she  takes  is  an  advance  to  glory.  Might 
I  be  the  last  victim  of  that  furious  spirit  of  party 
by  which  you  are  impelled,  with  what  joy  would  I 
quit  this  unfortunate  earth,  which  swallows  up  the 
friends  of  virtue  and  drinks  the  blood  of  the  just ! 

4.  "  Truth  !  Friendship  !  Country  ! — sacred  ob- 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  21] 


jects,  sentiments  dear  to  my  heart — accept  my 
last  sacrifice !  My  life  was  devoted  to  you,  and 
you  will  render  my  death  easy  and  glorious. 
Righteous  Heaven,  enlighten  this  wretched  peo- 
ple for  whom  I  invoke  liberty  !  Liberty  ?  Ah  ! 
that  is  for  noble  minds,  not  for  weak  beings  who 
enter  into  a  covenant  with  guilt,  and  try  to  var- 
nish cowardice  and  selfishness  with  the  name  of 
prudence — not  for  corrupt  wretches  who  rise  from 
the  bed  of  vice,  or  from  the  mire  of  indigence,  to 
feast  their  eyes  on  the  noble  blood  that  streams 
from  the  scaffold. 

5.  "  Oh  no  !  liberty  is  the  portion  of  a  people 
who  delight  in  humanity,  who  revere  justice, 
despise  flattery  and  venerate  truth.  While  you 
are  not  such  a  people,  O  my  fellow-citizens,  in 
vain  wiM  you  talk  of  liberty.  Instead  of  liberty 
you  will  have  licentiousness,  and  to  that  you  will 
all  in  your  turns  fall  victims.  You  will  ask  for 
bread,  and  will  get — dead  bodies  !  And  at  length 
you  will  bow  down  your  necks  to  the  yoke,  and 
find  your  vile  refuge  in  the  rule  of  a  despot. 

6.  "I  make  no  concealment  of  my  sympathies, 
my  opinions.  I  know  that  a  Roman  mother  once 
was  sent  to  the  scaffold  for  lamenting  the  death  of 
her  son.  I  know  that,  in  times  of  delusion  and 
party  rage,  he  who  dares  avow  himself  the  friend 
of  the  proscribed  exposes  himself  to  their  fate. 
But  I  do  not  fear  death.  I  never  feared  any  thing 
but  guilt,  and  I  will  not  purchase  life  at  the  jDrice 
of  a  lie.    Woe  to  the  times !    Woe  to  the  people 


212       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


among  whom  to  do  homage  to  disregarded  truth  is 
to  incur  their  hate  !  Happy  he  who,  under  such 
circumstances,  is  bold  enough  to  defy  that  hate, 
as  I  do !" 

7.  All  the  eloquence,  all  the  courage,  all  the 
feminine  beauty,  of  Madame  Eoland  could  not 
save  her  from  the  guillotine.  She  heard  herself 
sentenced  to  death  with  the  air  of  one  who  saw  in 
her  condemnation  merely  her  title  to  immortality. 
She  rose,  and  slightly  bowing  to  her  craven  judges, 
said,  with  an  ironical  smile,  "  I  thank  you  for  con- 
sidering me  worthy  to  share  the  fate  of  the  good 
and  great  men  you  have  murdered. "  As  she 
passed  along  the  corridor,  where  the  other  prison- 
ers had  assembled  to  greet  her  return,  she  looked 
at  them  smilingly,  and  drawing  her  right  hand 
across  her  throat,  made  a  sign  expressive  of  cutting 
off  a  head.  This  was  her  only  farewell ;  it  was 
tragic  as  her  destiny,  joyous  as  her  deliverance, 
and  well  was  it  understood  by  those  who  saw  it. 

8.  To  the  last  moment  did  this  remarkable  wo- 
man preserve  her  presence  of  mind,  her  intrepidity, 
and  even  her  gayety.  A  colossal  statue  of  Liberty, 
composed  of  clay,  like  the  liberty  of  the  time, 
stood  near  the  scaffold.  Bowing  before  this  statue, 
as  though  to  do  homage  to  a  power  for  whom  she 
was  about  to  die,  she  exclaimed,  "  O  Liberty, 
Liberty !  how  many  crimes  are  committed  in  thy 
name !"  She  then  resigned  herself  to  the  hands 
of  the  executioner,  and  in  a  few  seconds  her  head 
fell  into  the  basket  placed  to  receive  it. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER.  213 


YUSSOUF. 
I. 

A  stranger  came  one  night  to  Yussouf ' s  tent, 
Saying,  "  Behold  one  outcast  and  in  dread, 

Against  whose  life  the  bow  of  power  is  bent, 
Who  flies,  and  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head  ; 

I  come  to  thee  for  shelter  and  for  food, — 

To  Yussouf,  called  through  all  our  tribes,  The  Good'* 

II. 

'This  tent  is  mine,"  said  Yussouf,  "but  no  more 
Than  it  is  God's  ;  come  m,  and  be  at  peace  ; 
Freely  shalt  thou  partake  of  all  my  store 

As  I  of  His  who  buildeth  over  these 
Our  tents  his  glorious  roof  of  night  and  day, 
And  at  whose  door  none  ever  yet  heard  Nay." 

III. 

So  Yussouf  entertained  his  guest  that  night, 
And,  waking  him  ere  day,  said,  "  Here  is  gold ; 

My  swiftest  horse  is  saddled  for  thy  flight  ; 
Depart  before  the  prying  day  grow  bold." 

As  one  lamp  lights  another,  nor  grows  less, 

So  nobleness  enkindleth  nobleness. 

IV. 

That  inward  light  the  stranger's  face  made  grand, 
Which  shines  from  all  self-conquest;  kneeling  low, 

He  bowed  his  forehead  upon  Yussouf's  hand, 
Sobbing :  "  O  sheik,  I  cannot  leave  thee  so ; 

I  will  repay  thee ;  all  this  thou  hast  done 

Unto  that  Ibrahim  who  slew  thy  son !" 

V. 

*  Take  thrice  the  gold,"  said  Yussouf,  "  for  with  thee 

Into  the  desert,  never  to  return, 
My  one  black  thought  shall  ride  away  from  me ; 

First-born !  for  whom  by  day  and  night  I  yearn, 
Balanced  and  just  are  all  of  God's  decrees ! 
Thou  art  avenged :  my  first-born,  sleep  in  peace !" 


214       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXV. 

A-non',  soon  ;  quickly.  Im-pet-u-os'i-ty,  violence. 

A-stern',  behind  the  stern.  Mus'cu-lar,  full  of  muscle. 

Har/as-ses  (har/-),  wearies;  frets.     Of/fal,  waste  meat ;  carrion. 

Pronounce  Montreal,  mont-re-awl' ;  apparent,  dp-pdre'ent. 


THE  SAILOR  AND  THE  ALBATROSS. 


1.  The  albatross  is  a  web-footed  bird  of  large 
size  that  frequents  the  Southern  Ocean,  and  is 
seen  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cape  Horn.  It  often 
weighs  upward  of  twenty  pounds,  measuring  in  its 
extent  of  wing  from  ten  to  eleven  feet,  and  some- 
times even  more.  It  varies  in  color  according  to 
age  and  season,  but  is  generally  more  or  less  tinged 
with  gray  on  the  upper  part  of  the  body,  the  rest 
of  the  plumago  being  white. 


THE  NEW  AMERICAS  FOURTH  READER. 


215 


2.  At  sea,  its  vast  extent  of  wing,  its  graceful 
movements,  its  power  displayed  in  the  tempest, 
when  the  wind  lashes  the  waves  into  foam,  have 
excited  the  admiration  of  voyagers.  Now,  high  in 
air,  it  sweeps  in  wide  circles,  anon  it  descends  with 
the  utmost  impetuosity,  plunges  into  the  water, 
and,  instantly  rising,  soars  aloft  with  its  finmv 
prey.  It  harasses  the  flying-fish,  or  sails  round 
the  vessel  and  picks  up  the  offal  thrown  overboard. 
It  rises  and  descends,  as  if  some  concealed  power 
guided  its  motions,  without  any  apparent  exertion 
of  muscular  energy,  and  it  breasts  the  gale  or 
mounts  high  above  the  stormy  vapor  with  pro- 
digious power  and  a  lordly  ease. 

3.  The  albatross  will  follow  a  ship  for  weeks. 
An  instance  is  told  of  an  albatross  which,  having 
been  caught  and  marked  with  a  red  ribbon  about 
its  leg,  and  then  released,  flew  three  thousand  miles 
in  company  with  a  vessel  before  it  left  her.  This 
bird  must  have  been  on  the  wing  nearly  all  the 
time  for  that  vast  distance. 

4.  A  remarkable  but  well-attested  story  was  re- 
cently communicated  by  an  officer  of  the  eighty- 
third  British  regiment  in  India  to  a  friend  in 
Montreal.  While  the  division  to  which  the  officer 
belonged  was  on  its  way  to  India,  being  at  the  time 
a  short  distance  eastward  of  Cape  Horn,  one  of  the 
men  was  severely  flogged  for  some  slight  offense. 
Maddened  at  the  punishment,  the  j)oor  fellow  was 
no  sooner  released  than,  in  the  sight  of  all  his  com- 
rades and  the  ship's  crew,  he  sprang  overboard. 


216       THE  NEW  AMERICAN  FOURTH  READER. 


5.  There  was  a  high  sea  running  at  the  time, 
and,  as  the  man  was  swept  on  astern,  all  hope  of 
saving  him  seemed  to  vanish.  He  struggled  with 
the  waves,  as  if,  the  moment  he  found  himself  in 
the  water,  the  desire  for  life  had  overcome  his 
sudden  frenzy.  There  seemed  no  possibility  of 
rescue,  when  all  at  once  an  albatross  was  seen  to 
poise  itself  over  the  soldier,  and  then  to  make  a 
bold,  smooth  swoop  toward  him. 

6.  What  was  the  amazement  of  the  crowd  of 
spectators  on  deck  on  discovering  that  the  drown- 
ing soldier  had  caught  hold  of  the  bird  !  He  kept 
his  hold  firmly,  and  the  power  of  the  bird  was 
sufficient  to  sustain  him  afloat  till  a  boat  from  the 
vessel  was  lowered  and  rowed  to  his  rescue. 

7.  But  for  the  assistance  thus  afforded  by  the 
bird,  no  power  on  earth  could  have  saved  the  sol- 
dier, as,  in  consequence  of  the  tremendous  sea  run- 
ning, a  long  time  elapsed  before  the  boat  could  be 
manned  and  got  down,  and  all  this  time  the  man 
was  clinging  to  the  albatross,  whose  flutterings  and 
struggles  to  escape  bore  him  up. 

8.  Who  after  this  should  despair?  A  raging 
sea — a  drowning  man — an  albatross  ! — what  eye 
could  see  safety  under  such  circumstances  ?  or  can 
we  venture  to  call  this  chance  ?  Is  it  not  rather  a 
lesson  intended  to  stimulate  faith  and  hope  and 
teach  us  never  to  despair,  since,  in  the  darkest  mo- 
ment, when  the  waves  dash  and  the  winds  roar, 
and  a  gulf  seems  closing  over  our  heads,  there  may 
he  an  albatross  near  f 


/ 


AZ38ZZ0C0Q 


seuejqn  Ai!SJ8A|un  9>|na 


